


Hope Springs Eternal

by cywscross



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Body Horror, Fluff, Gen, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Past Character Death, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Slash, Slice of Life, UraIchi Week 2018, not terribly graphic though imo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-13 22:06:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 32,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14757158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cywscross/pseuds/cywscross
Summary: Years down the road, a piece of Kisuke’s past machinations comes back to haunt him. But Ichigo is not a ghost, and Kisuke is reminded that he's always been fascinated by the impossible.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Day 6 of UraIchi Week 2018.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter will be posted tomorrow.

 

“Hey mister, you still alive?”

Kisuke opens his eyes and finds himself staring into the face of a long-dead Shiba.

Then his lungs decide to rebel, and he ends up half curled onto his side and coughing hard enough to taste blood at the back of his throat. By the time he gets that under control, he can feel the rest of his body and wishes he can’t.

Fuck, he feels like someone dropped a building on him. Which - as he’s reminded upon his memories rushing back to the forefront of his conscious mind - is pretty much what happened. He isn’t usually one for swearing but if there was ever a time…

He presses a hand to his front, grimacing when he feels his ribs shift under his palm. He thinks about summoning some healing Kidou but decides against it in the end. Even just in his head, it sounds like too much effort at the moment.

Slowly, he pushes himself up into a sitting position and takes a look around. His clothes are more grey from dust than anything else and he’s lost his hat, but at least Benihime is only a foot away at his side, and miraculously, his watch is still ticking away on his wrist. There’s rubble everywhere, from when the stampede knocked out the supports of all the buildings in the area. But the Hollows are long gone, and Kisuke can’t sense either of his friends nearby, so at least his gamble with leading the Hollows away while Yoruichi escaped with Tessai worked.

That, or they’re both dead. Kisuke very deliberately doesn’t let himself dwell on that possibility.

He turns last to the reiatsu signature that’s been hovering in his peripheral for a few minutes now. He probably should have faced that first, but if Kisuke hasn’t been killed yet, the newcomer probably isn’t going to be trying anytime soon.

Perched on top of a jagged piece of cement, wary brown eyes stare back at him, out of a face that could be an almost direct match for Shiba Kaien’s. Thinner, tall but not as broad across the chest, with sharper features and a shaggy mop of bright orange hair, but otherwise a dead ringer.

Except-

 _Orange hair_.

Something about that sets off distant alarm bells in Kisuke’s head, like a memory just out of reach. It’s shunted to the back of his mind though when the boy - Sixteen? Seventeen? - leans forward, and the collar of the coat he’s wearing flaps open briefly to reveal a flash of white along his jaw.

Kisuke goes still. _How-_

“You gonna get up?” The boy asks, scowling but not with any heat behind it. If he’s noticed Kisuke’s observation, he doesn’t let on. “The monsters might come back soon.”

Kisuke stares for a moment longer before beginning the arduous process of easing himself to his feet. Benihime is a reassuring weight in his hand, and her shikomizue form makes for decent support for him to lean on. Still, he can’t breathe too deeply or spots start obscuring his vision, and that’s no good.

When he looks up again, the boy is watching him almost quizzically.

“Yes?” He asks politely, if hoarsely, throat still raw from his coughing fit.

The boy shrugs. “Why aren’t you healing? You can, right? Cuz you got a sword.” He nods at Benihime like it should be obvious that the cane is not just a cane.

Kisuke studies him a little closer, searching for the glint of Hollow he knows is there. “You have a sword too then…?”

He drags out the question, hinting for a name, but the boy doesn’t seem to notice. He only shrugs again.

“I have two,” He reveals, even though Kisuke can’t spot a single weapon on him. “And I heal. That’s why I thought you might still be alive, after I saw you go in this building and not come out when it collapsed.” He scowls harder like it’s a personal affront. “But you’re not healing.”

Kisuke glances down at himself. His clothes are more than dusty, now that he’s taking another look. Parts have been torn, and the cuff of one leg of his pants is sticking annoyingly to his ankle in a way that says some part of him has been cut open, and the blood’s pooled and dried there.

Pain too, but his entire body feels like it’s in pain right now, and he can’t really isolate any one area that’s worse than the rest.

He looks up again and says somewhat sardonically, “I’m a bit too tired at the moment. I’ll be able to heal myself in a little while though.”

For a long minute, the boy only watches him, silent, still scowling. Then he huffs a put-upon breath and jumps down from his perch, dropping his duffel bag to the ground and approaching with a no-nonsense stride that Kisuke instinctively tenses from. The boy seems oblivious to that too, or he ignores it if he isn’t, and Kisuke keeps his eyes on hands and limbs and feet, ready for a knife in the ribs or a Cero blast between them.

Neither comes. Instead, the boy stops a foot away and lifts his hands. A second later, familiar blue light flickers to life in them.

“I’m a doctor,” The boy says gruffly. “I can heal you.”

And just like that, the memory surfaces, bursting bright and clear in his mind. Kisuke stiffens, almost taking a startled step back he stares wide-eyed at this boy, Shiba in every line of his face but-

 _“I’m a doctor!”_ _A woman insists, muddy and tired from who knows how many days of travel in the rain, but determined to help anyway when she saw the state Hiyori was in, with her stomach practically ripped open and none of them with enough reiatsu to heal her after a solid week of holding back the onslaught of four Gargantas’ worth of Hollows that opened all around them before they could escape. The woman stumbles on them shortly after they finally manage to force-close the Gargantas. Kisuke is the only one to recognize her, underneath the grit and exhaustion, long brown hair bound in a ponytail and a stubborn tilt to her chin, with two little girls hanging onto her skirts. “I’m a doctor! I can heal her!”_

And she had. Before her, Kisuke didn’t even know Quincy could use their powers to heal.

And now this boy…

Kisuke lets him close, sitting when the boy urges him to, and shrugging out of his coat and shirt to give him better access to his ribs. He cringes a little when he gets a better look at his left side - his flesh is a mess of blood and viscera and deep bruising, and one of his ribs is jutting out into the open. It’s a miracle one of his lungs hasn’t been sliced open.

The boy’s reishi is cool against Kisuke’s feverish skin, and within minutes, he can already breathe more easily. The boy even numbs his nerves before manoeuvring his ribs back into place, mending bone and sinew, muscle and liver, and then finally knitting his flesh back together without so much as a scar, but with a care not many people show in the world they live in nowadays.

The boy does the same with his leg. Nothing is broken but a nasty-looking gash runs along the length of Kisuke’s right calf until the boy heals that too. The blood remains of course, but Kisuke can clean that later.

“...Thank you,” He says when the light fades at last. The boy nods curtly, rising to his feet and picking up his bag. He hesitates, then turns to leave.

“Wait,” Kisuke calls after him, and immediately gets a guarded look in return. The boy drifts a few feet back, watching Kisuke now as sharply as Kisuke watched him when he first approached.

 _Because he’s a threat now_ , Kisuke realizes, and the assassin in him approves. Although it’s a curious thing, to heal a stranger you know could hurt you once they were recovered.

“I didn’t get your name,” Kisuke continues, climbing to his feet in a way that telegraphs harmlessness.

The boy’s eyes narrow. “I didn’t tell you.”

No bite then. Very well.

“I am Urahara Kisuke,” He offers, gaze intent on the boy’s face. He pauses a beat but no recognition comes, and he supposes that’s not such a surprise. “Would you happen to be Kurosaki Ichigo?”

The reaction is instantaneous. Black reiatsu gilded with a red as blood-bright as Kisuke’s own snaps along his arms like lightning before condensing around his hands but he doesn’t outright attack, which Kisuke supposes is fortunate for him. The last thing he wants to do is get in a fight with this boy, and not just because he would probably get his balls cut off later if he harmed a hair on Ichigo’s head. The reiatsu pressure around them is sudden and _immense_ , and Kisuke’s not stupid enough to think that just because the boy is young, Kisuke will come out on top in a battle between them. The finesse with which he used his Quincy powers is testament enough to at least _some_ skill.

He quickly raises his hands, Benihime dangling loosely from his fingers, and hurries out, “Wait! I know your mother. Kurosaki Masaki. She’s the one who told me about you.”

And just like that, the pressure disappears. Ichigo glares, and _there’s_ the glint of Hollow-gold Kisuke was looking for earlier. His coat’s billowed back enough from a gust of wind that the bone set along one side of his jaw and curving around the back of his neck is plainly visible for Kisuke to see.

“You know my mother,” Ichigo repeats, not quite a question, and more suspicious than anything else.

Kisuke inclines his head, carefully lowering his hands again. “I do. She and her two daughters - Yuzu-san and Karin-san-” Ichigo twitches a little at their names. “-are staying with my group. They are alive.”

Ichigo is silent for a long moment, weighing Kisuke’s response. “...What does my name mean?”

“First protector,” Kisuke answers immediately. Masaki said her son would ask. She told them they ran across a Hollow once that could take on the appearance of someone else, and it made itself look like _her_ , like she was in trouble. It almost killed Ichigo when Ichigo didn’t know better and tried to help, and afterwards, they made sure they each had a verification question that only their family would know the answer to.

That Kisuke knows it too is apparently enough for Ichigo to find the rest of his answers satisfactory. The last of that red-on-black reiatsu disappears, and the world is calm again.

Still, something uneasy snakes into Kisuke’s chest. “How else did you think I would know your name?”

Ichigo automatically scowls. “The only person who knows my name these days is this-” He shakes his head almost irritably. “-this white butterfly creep-”

Kisuke closes his eyes.

“-and he sends these assholes after me, trying to kill me, when _he_ doesn’t find me and try to do me in himself. I don’t even know why he wants to kill me so badly, but I think- I think he’s the one who did all this.” He gestures around them, at the perpetually grey skies, at the stink of death and decay in the air, at their surroundings that once sat a thriving town. “He kept going on and on about kings and thrones and the glory of his reign or what-the-fuck-ever. And he said once that I had to die so he could get ‘what rightfully belongs to him’. A… hogaku or something. But I don’t have anything like that. He didn’t make much sense.”

Kisuke opens his eyes again, reaching for his hat, only to abort the motion when he remembers he doesn’t have it anymore. “No,” He says instead. “No, you wouldn’t have it.”

Ichigo’s expression turns shrewd. “You know who he is. You know the- the thing he wants. You know _where_ it is.”

“I do,” Kisuke agrees. “I was the one who made it. Aizen- The... butterfly man,” He smirks despite the situation. “His name is Aizen Sousuke. He made his own Hogyoku, an incomplete one, just like mine. Apart, each of them already has the power to dissolve the boundaries between Shinigami-” He gestures to himself. “-and Hollows, the monsters. But combined together, it would have the power to grant a man’s deepest desires.”

Ichigo furiously frowns his way through the admittedly shoddy explanation. Masaki already said that Isshin kept the truth from their children when he was still alive, before the world ended, and afterwards, Masaki only explained the bare bones, referring to reiatsu as a magical power and the Hollows as monsters to her nine-year-old son and her five-year-old daughters. Kisuke should probably at least start with what a Shinigami is.

“...Okay,” Ichigo says slowly, brow furrowed. “So what you’re saying is, that butterfly guy is still looking for the other- for your _Hogyoku_ because he wants his personal genie-in-a-lamp, but in the meantime, he was probably fucking around with his own. And you said… erasing the boundaries between… so I guess this Aizen person took it too far with _his_ Hogyoku, or maybe he meant to, and that’s why-” Brown eyes slice up to meet Kisuke’s. “That’s why the graves are empty, why the dead won’t stay dead, and-” One of his hands come up to tap the white that frames his jaw. “-why I’m half-skeleton?”

Kisuke blinks, and then smiles a little. “That’s… basically the gist of it. Hollows are… corrupted souls, you could say. Shinigami are souls with high reiryoku, spiritual energy that can be released and manipulated - then called reiatsu - the way you just did. We were once responsible for purifying Hollows and making sure souls move on properly, but after Aizen, well, what’s left of us are all pretty much out of a job. Purification doesn’t work anymore. The place where souls are sent no longer exists. Aizen destroyed it, along with the boundaries between worlds, so now,” His smile turns grim. “We have Hell on earth instead.”

“...Okay,” Ichigo rubs his forehead like he has a headache. It _is_ a lot to take in, and Kisuke’s never been the best at providing a thorough explanation. “But what does that have to do with _me?_ I don’t- I’m not a Shinigami or a Hollow. I’m Human.” Kisuke peers at him, and Ichigo goes still. “Right?”

“Your father was a Shinigami,” Kisuke reveals as gently as he can, watching Ichigo’s shoulders go rigid. “Your mother is Human but she was… well I guess you could say she was poisoned by a Hollow when she was younger, before she had you. I managed to isolate the poison and keep it from further harming her, but some of it must have been passed on to you.” It most definitely was. Once upon a time, Kisuke banked on it. “So, you are, technically, a Shinigami-Human-Hollow hybrid, and with Aizen’s Hogyoku wreaking havoc on this world, the Hollow in your soul was triggered. That-” He nods at Ichigo’s jaw. “-is the result.”

Ichigo doesn’t say anything for a while. He doesn’t even react beyond a few rapid blinks and the flicker of his Hollow behind his eyes.

“ _You_ isolated the poison,” Ichigo says eventually.

Kisuke glances down at his Zanpakutou before looking up again. “Your father and I, we were once work colleagues. I came upon him and your mother in the aftermath of that Hollow attack and offered my aid.”

He does not say he came upon them before that.

He does not say he waited.

Ichigo nods distractedly and falls silent again for several beats before eventually asking, “But why does the butter- Why does Aizen think I have this Hogyoku thing?”

“Because I hid it,” Kisuke says simply even as his fingers curl more securely around the handle of his Zanpakutou. “Shortly after the world boundaries fell, and no doubt, Aizen was no longer able to sense it, so he knew I hid it. One way to do so is to place the Hogyoku in a soul, _hide_ it in a soul. It is - as far as I know - the _only_ way Aizen knows how to do it.”

“But you figured out another way.”

“Yes, in a way,” Kisuke nods. “But Aizen doesn’t know that. He must think I hid it in you. Your soul is-” He pauses. “I don’t know if you are aware of this already, Kurosaki-san, but you are very powerful. And since I knew your parents, Aizen must have deduced that I would use your soul to protect the Hogyoku from him.”

He meets Ichigo’s gaze evenly. Ichigo stares back, unblinking, like he knows Kisuke isn’t telling him something, another reason to explain why Aizen is so obsessed with killing Ichigo, _why Ichigo_.

Kisuke didn’t lie, exactly, at least not about this. _Everything_ is because Kurosaki Ichigo, the first successful product of a pureblood Shinigami combined with a Quincy tainted by a Hollow, is extraordinarily powerful. Aizen fears it, even now, even if he would never admit to such a thing. He must fear it even more because the very fact that Ichigo is standing here now, still alive, means the madman hasn’t been able to kill him.

(Once upon a time, Kisuke bet everything on the same thing, and look where they are now.)

Ichigo doesn’t ask, in the end.

“You’re gonna take me to my mom and my sisters,” Ichigo says like it’s simple fact, like it’s going to happen whether Kisuke likes it or not.

Kisuke doesn’t protest. As if he was going to leave _without_ Ichigo.

He looks around, gets his bearings. “This way then, Kurosaki-san.”

 

* * *

 

The first time they bunk down for the night, Kisuke enquires lightly, “You’re rather young for a doctor. Not that I’m disparaging your skills, obviously,” He gestures at himself, still dressed in clothes that have seen better days but perfectly fine underneath. “But do Humans accept that at face value? Or do you only help those with swords?”

The Shinigami were scattered in the aftermath of Aizen’s betrayal. Most were massacred in the first wave but no doubt some escaped. It wouldn’t be that much of a shock to hear that Ichigo’s stumbled on a few of them, offering the aid of his abilities where he can.

Ichigo scowls over at him from across their little campfire. It’s not actual flame, just a tiny Shakkahou that Kisuke learned to repurpose long ago for practical use so that no smoke will give them away, and it succeeds in beating back some of the cold night air seeping into the shed. If Ichigo is surprised by what he can do, he doesn’t say. He doesn’t say much at all when not prompted to. Kisuke’s rarely had such a silent companion since his Onmitsukidou days but Ichigo has been a shadow at his side all day. He doesn’t seem to know long-distance Shunpo or even Hirenkyaku, and he hasn’t come within three feet of Kisuke since they started travelling so Kisuke highly doubts the boy will let him grab him and flash them both to their destination, which means they’ve been reduced to walking.

Kisuke doesn’t mind so much. He knows that if he doesn’t show up back at base soon, the others will worry, but at the same time, despite their bleak surroundings, he’s glad to be able to stay out longer and stretch his legs a little. He’s never been claustrophobic, but living in close quarters for extended amounts of time with so many people, and most of them _loud_ people, is a lot more stressful than one might expect.

Tonight, he and Ichigo are tucked away in a makeshift alcove that used to be the shed attached to a house. The house has collapsed but the shed is still sturdy enough to take shelter in, and a few planks of wood placed strategically in the broken doorway hide the glow from anyone who might pass by.

Neither of them has trouble suppressing their reiatsu. Kisuke wonders how Ichigo learned. The pressure earlier was massive and crushing. It would take a lot of fine control to tuck it all away.

He wonders if that has anything to do with why Ichigo is not with his family. Masaki never did say. _We were separated_ , she told them, but little else.

“I’m a doctor,” Ichigo says now, voice a flat contrast to the ferocity in his eyes. “I help _everyone_.” His gaze drops to the fire before amending, “Everyone I can.” He looks up again, shrugging minutely. “The world’s fucked up. If I can heal someone and stop ’em from dying and becoming mons- those Hollow things a little while longer, even normal humans don’t care how.”

Kisuke nods thoughtfully, debates the pros and cons of fishing for more answers, then fishes anyway. “And your mother taught you how to heal?”

Ichigo stiffens but not like the subject is completely taboo, and after a moment, he offers up grudgingly, “She taught me some tricks when we were still… travelling together. I could do cuts and bruises already, and this kind of healing - it’s not like I have to know every part of the body, it’s mostly just finding stuff that’s wrong and… restoring it, so I guess ‘doctor’ isn’t really true, but people respond better to it than ‘magical healer’ or whatever, and it’s what Mom always introduced herself as. I taught myself more over the years.” He gestures to his jaw with a bitter twist of his mouth. “Bone bursting through skin hurts like a bitch and bleeds for days. I wouldn’t recommend it. Although I suppose you’d know.”

Kisuke doesn’t quite freeze but he also barely hears the last two sentences. “...There was a physical injury?”

Ichigo’s gaze sharpens on him in an instant. “Yeah. You said you know my sisters.” His reiatsu stirs for a moment like the rising hackles of a cat, even though nothing shows. “Didn’t they go through it?”

Kisuke shakes his head. “No. Any trace of Hollow in them has remained largely dormant. I’ve kept a close eye on them over the years but they have not shown any signs of becoming Visored. I hypothesized that it may be because they were born after you, and they’re also twins. You were the firstborn, so you took the brunt of it. Any remaining Hollow taint that was passed down to them was further diluted enough between them that it simply hasn’t been strong enough for the Hogyoku to manifest. Likewise, their Shinigami blood is weaker too.”

Ichigo stares long and hard, probing for a lie, and then he releases a breath that can’t be anything but relief. “Good, I- good. I’m glad. It’s not something they should have to go through.”

Kisuke watches the flickering red of his Kidou spell in front of him, his mind providing question after question, then discarding each a moment later before finally settling on one.

(He _wants_ to ask, _what happened when your Hollow broke through? How could you stay in your human body when the Hollow took over? How long did the transformation take? How long was it before you could control it? How powerful did it make you? How? How? How?_

But all those questions sound a bit too much like _how long did you scream_ , and even Kisuke has learned some tact.)

So instead, he asks, “Have you learned your spirit’s name?”

Ichigo blinks at him. “What?”

“Your Zanpakutou incarnation,” Kisuke corrects himself. “A Zanpakutou is a physical reflection of your soul in the form of a weapon, and each one has a sentient incarnation attached to it. So, the spirit of your swords. You said you had two, right?” He wonders briefly what Kyouraku and Ukitake would have thought of this boy. He still hasn’t been able to catch a glimpse of Ichigo’s Zanpakutou but Ichigo’s also still in his human body, as far as Kisuke can see. There’s bound to be some differences from regular Shinigami. “Spirits reside in an inner world, inside one’s mind, a place you can enter usually through meditation but - sometimes - also if you’re in a desperate enough situation. If you’ve been able to summon your Zanpakutou, you should at least have seen your Zanpakutou spirit. Perhaps even conversed with them?”

He pauses when Ichigo shows no signs of comprehension. He flips Benihime into the flat of his palm and partially unsheathes her with his other, flashing the glint of the blade at Ichigo even as he ignores how muted she feels with the ease of long-time necessity. “This is my Benihime. Learning her name makes a world of difference when I wield her. The spirit empowers the sword and lends their strength to ours. Learning your spirit’s name means they have judged you worthy to wield them and utilize their abilities alongside your own.”

Ichigo follows the explanation attentively but something quizzical remains in the tightness of his expression. “I don’t… I don’t have anything like that though. I’ve never heard a voice or anything.”

Kisuke lowers Benihime back into his lap, flicking an eye over the boy again. “Where do you keep your blades then?”

Ichigo considers him for a moment before lifting his left hand. Immediately, black reiatsu edged with red converges in his palm and rushes down his arm, tongues of it licking between his fingers and spiraling around his forearm like living shadows. Then Ichigo tips his hand down, and between one blink and the next, a blade - _trench knife_ , Kisuke identifies - slides out of the swirling darkness until the hilt of it settles in Ichigo’s palm, and then all the reiatsu recede back to his wrist - _reiatsu vent_ , Kisuke notes - and in another blink, all of it disappears again.

The blade remains. It’s pitch-black from hilt to tip with an enclosed handle. Ichigo hefts it easily, although he also examines it with a vaguely curious eye, as if he’s used it long enough to become accustomed to its presence but its very existence still baffles him to some degree.

“I have another,” Ichigo waves his free hand. “But it’s bigger. I don’t want to pull it out here.” He shrugs. “And still no voices.” He points at his jaw. “This happened first. Or, well, Mom taught me how to use the healing power. Reiatsu?”

“Reishi,” Kisuke supplies. He decides against saying anything about Quincy. Masaki would probably want to explain that, and he’s already piled enough surprises on Ichigo in the past twelve hours. “It’s another type of power some have. The Hollow transformation came after?”

“Yeah,” Ichigo nods. “And my… reiatsu? That was always there I guess. I…” He trails off, glancing down at the blade in his hand. “I was trying to figure out what I could do with my reiatsu. The swords just came when I was thinking about how it would help if I had an actual weapon instead of just shooting beams all the time.”

 _Cero_. So Ichigo really can do that too.

No wonder Aizen wants to kill him so badly. It’s not even just the Hogyoku anymore. Ichigo’s still in his _human body_ , but he’s barely even human anymore. Shinigami, Quincy, Hollow - his body has taken it all, and instead of tearing itself apart, it’s _adapted_.

Ichigo is perhaps just as much the perfect weapon as Kisuke once hoped.

His fingers twitch. He wishes he still has his hat.

“You said Visored,” Ichigo says abruptly, and Kisuke has to work to keep the flinch from his shoulders. He’s losing his touch.

Ichigo is tossing his Zanpakutou from hand to hand, not a fumble in sight even as his gaze remains glued to Kisuke’s face. Ichigo does that a lot, Kisuke’s noticed. Staring like he’s trying to strip every last defense from his target’s mien.

“That means there’s a name for me,” Ichigo continues out loud, soft in a way that makes him sound like he’s figuring something out. His eyes though, they tell Kisuke that he already has. “Which means there are others like me. Or there were. You said my sisters haven’t turned. So.” His Zanpakutou drops back into his left hand, and Kisuke’s fingers curl instinctively around Benihime’s handle. “Who are the other Visored? And you were surprised when I mentioned the bone breaking my skin, so they didn’t transform _exactly_ like me. They’re not like me. So, why am I different?”

Kisuke is silent. On one hand, he sends up his thanks to the (probably dead) Soul King that Ichigo has at least inherited more brains than his father. Isshin wasn’t exactly _stupid_ , but he could be pretty thick in some very annoying, very boisterous ways. The Shibas in general were like that, but Isshin took it an extra ten miles. Thank heavens the boy seems to take after his mother. And on top of his intelligence, Ichigo’s probably had to learn vigilance over the years. Observation is key in a world where getting too close to a stranger might mean a knife in the back.

But on the other, this is the very last topic Kisuke wants Ichigo’s sharp attention focused on.

“You’re still human,” Kisuke finally replies, a heartbeat later than strictly necessary. “Or at least partially human. I suspect that’s also why you don’t have a Zanpakutou spirit in the traditional sense. The Visored I know are only Shinigami-Hollow hybrids. Shinigami first, Hollowfied later. Their transformations were… drawn-out, but spirit bodies are made of reishi, natural energy, what you used to heal me earlier, not true flesh and blood like yours. The process was painful, but they didn’t bleed. They _can_ bleed, but the Hollowfication itself was largely just two different kinds of… energies warring for dominance inside them before finally fusing together. The ‘bone’ that represents a Hollowfied state is not actually bone, just a manifestation of Hollow energy. On a Hollow, the mask and even any armour they might wear are formed from the hearts they lost when their souls were corrupted.”

Ichigo… stares. Of course. But his grip has loosened from around his Zanpakutou, and he doesn’t look quite so much like he’s counting the number of ways he can stick it into Kisuke’s hide.

Black reiatsu spins into existence, and the trench knife disappears. Kisuke can’t help watching. It’s fascinating. He’s never seen anything quite like it.

“You’re not telling me something,” Ichigo accuses out almost casually.

Kisuke arches a politely confused eyebrow. “I’m not?”

“No,” Ichigo agrees with a certainty that Kisuke would’ve found offensive a century ago. He was Onmitsukidou’s best. He _has_ no tells.

But he’s learned humility since, learned that he isn’t infallible, that there are things he can’t predict or can’t control or can’t just _fix_ when it goes wrong. He’s learned that he can make mistakes, and not just small ones or embarrassing ones or ones that can be covered up to evade the consequences, insignificant in the greater scheme of things, but ones that can ruin lives. Ruin worlds. He underestimated his own curiosity once, his hunger for knowledge and the damage it could do. He underestimated the power of the Hogyoku. He underestimated Aizen.

He won’t underestimate this boy.

And yet he’s still taken aback when Ichigo twists around and starts tugging out a blanket, dark like his clothes and frayed at the edges, but large enough to cover all of him. He pulls out another, and Kisuke automatically catches it before it can smack him in the face and tumble into the fire.

“...You aren’t going to ask?” Kisuke prods carefully. “If you think I’m not-”

“You’re not gonna tell me, are you?” Ichigo asks in rhetorical tones as he begins bunking down on the floor with his back to a dusty-looking shelf. “At least not right now, or you would’ve already, and I don’t wanna waste my breath. You told me all that other stuff when you thought I’d stab you in the throat or something if you didn’t.”

Kisuke blinks. “I did not tell you because I thought you would stab me. I told you because-” _-you deserve to know_. “-you asked.” He pauses. “Are you implying you weren’t going to?”

Ichigo actually rolls his eyes this time. It’s the most _emotional_ reaction Kisuke’s gotten from him all day.

“I healed you,” Ichigo reminds him bluntly, and again, Kisuke has to struggle not to wince. That… is not a debt he wants to bear, not from Ichigo. It isn’t a matter of pride. It’s just that he hasn’t even cleared the first one yet, and he probably never will.

“I’m not gonna waste my efforts by killing you,” Ichigo continues. “Besides, you’re taking me to my family. You can’t die yet.”

Well, that at least is something Kisuke can understand. He watches Ichigo curl up onto his side, tucking an arm under his head and burrowing further under his blanket. Shadows cast by the fire play across his face, a pale imitation of his reiatsu.

Eventually, Kisuke does the same, unrolling the blanket he was given, pleasantly surprised by the weight of it. It’s thick and clean, if old, but still functional. Coupled with the fire, it’s more than enough to block out the perpetual winter chill, and it’s big enough to wrap himself in.

“...Thank you,” He says quietly once he’s also lying down, blanket pulled up to his nose.

Ichigo grunts from the other side of the fire. He doesn’t say anything else, and within minutes, his breathing evens out into sleep.

It takes Kisuke only another ten minutes or so to follow him.

 

* * *

 

Kisuke feels better in the morning. His injuries were healed but that didn’t change the fact that he was more or less exhausted yesterday, and the night of rest was exactly what he needed. There’s still a tug of… something deep in his bones, a festering ache like an overused muscle, but that’s been there since the world ended and he sealed the Hogyoku away in order to hide it so he barely even notices anymore.

Ichigo breaks out a few packs of dry cereal, along with two more bottles of water. They had one meal yesterday, after they came across a store that still had cup ramen on its shelves, and a few Kidou spells allowed them to eat it. Today is even simpler fare, but food is food, and Kisuke’s eaten worse. Bottled water also tastes better than water produced by Kidou, and Ichigo shares without hesitation. Kisuke makes a note to cook a proper meal for the boy as soon as possible. It’s the least he can do.

They start off the day’s trek in silence. Kisuke isn’t bothered by it - Onmitsukidou missions weren’t exactly an invitation to chat, and it’s a relief to not have to sit through Kensei and Mashiro’s bickering or Hiyori screaming her rage every five minutes or Lisa’s penchant for reading her erotic novels out loud or _all_ of them getting rowdily drunk.

Kisuke never really feels like partying anymore. He enjoyed it every now and then before, but these days, when the others break out the sake and joke around and laugh, especially for the children’s benefit, there’s always an underscore of desperation haunting them all, and Kisuke can’t bear more than a few minutes of it before retreating to his room or lab. Yoruichi tells him he’s no fun anymore. Kisuke doesn’t tell her that it’s pretty clear she hasn’t had much fun either since Sui-Feng turned to dust in front of her via one of Aizen’s Espada.

So he takes Ichigo’s silence in stride, even though it’s rather uncharacteristic for both the Shiba line and the Kurosaki line. But then, Ichigo seems like he’s been alone for a long time, especially without even a Zanpakutou spirit to accompany him. Conversation can’t be a very high priority for him.

It’s late afternoon when they bump into a group of over two dozen Hollows - half of them Adjuchas-class at least - feeding on some humans in the middle of cratered ground that looks like it’s taken more than one Cero.

Kisuke hesitates because he can sense that the Humans are beyond saving by now. He can kill them without much effort but it won’t purify them because there’s nowhere for the souls - Hollow or otherwise - to go. Killing these Hollows isn’t going to make much of a difference either, not when there’s a million more and counting out there to contend with. There’s no _point_ cutting in. It’s a waste of time and energy, and these days, Kisuke doesn’t fight unless there’s no other choice. Better to find a way around and start looking for shelter again. The sun is already setting, and nighttime on earth is about as cold as Hueco Mundo nights these days.

But where Kisuke hangs back, Ichigo does not. Black reiatsu flares like a beacon, and every Hollow swings around like hounds on a scent, only for the closest one to get a spear-shaped blaze of blue light straight to its white-masked face. It disintegrates in an instant, its angry roar cut off abruptly.

A blink and Ichigo is suddenly hurtling through the air, his trench knife sliding into his left hand and a much larger blade swirling into existence in his right. He flips once at the highest point of his leap and then drops like a meteor straight into the thickest pit of Hollows in the clearing.

Kisuke watches him dispatch one, two, five Hollows, then another five. His Zanjutsu is rough and unpolished but there’s an instinctive grace in the way he swings his blades around, and he never misses. He plows his way through the horde like an unstoppable force of nature, and anything his knives don’t get, his reiatsu - draping his form like a tattered cloak - does, snapping out like it has a mind of its own and devouring anything that strays too close.

Masaki came to them seven years ago. Ichigo would’ve been ten. If this was his potential, then it’s no wonder he managed to survive on his own.

It takes three minutes at most for Ichigo to dispatch every last Hollow in the clearing. There’s not a graze on him when he finally comes to a stop near the edge of the crater, his blades rippling away into nothing again, returning to wherever they’re stored when they’re not in use. Or perhaps not _stored_ , exactly-

 _Pure reiatsu_ , Kisuke thinks suddenly. _Could it really be? His swords are made from pure reiatsu? Created every time he needs them?_

Ichigo straightens. He doesn’t turn to Kisuke, doesn’t make his way over. Instead, he hurries over to the bloodied bodies on the ground and starts…

Starts checking for a pulse.

Kisuke sighs, riffling a hand through his hair with something like frustration and something oddly like shame, and then - after scooping up the bag Ichigo dropped - he too skids his way down the steeped slope of the crater and picks his way over to the carnage. He halts a foot away from a half-eaten arm, casting a detached eye over the desecrated corpses, then at Ichigo who’s in the process of rolling the ragged stump of a woman’s torso off the mostly intact little girl underneath. If not for her concaved skull, she could almost appear as if she was only unconscious.

“...They’re gone, Ichigo,” Kisuke says quietly.

The only sign that Ichigo’s heard him at all is the way his lips tighten into an even thinner line. But he doesn’t stop making sure every last one of them really is beyond saving until he’s gone through all of them. Well, most of them. Even Ichigo skips over the ones who only have part of a corpse left.

He sits back on his heels for a moment when he finishes, blinks twice at some middle distance, and then stands. He holds out his hand to Kisuke, who hands him back his bag, and then he turns to climb out of the crater.

He waits until Kisuke is out too. Then he passes a hand over his mouth and the bone along his jaw begins creeping up and across his chin and cheek at a rapid pace, spreading until it covers the entire bottom portion of his face. When Ichigo drops his hand again, everything from his cheekbones down is a skull-like mask with only a dark red crescent-shaped mark on the left to mar the white. His eyes are a harsh gleaming gold.

He opens his mouth and a Cero bursts forth, followed by another, then another, shattering the entire circumference of the crater. The ground quakes and rumbles before breaking into a landslide of rock, and soon, the entire hole has been filled, leaving an uneven landmass of overturned earth.

Or a mass grave for a bunch of Humans who will never see an afterlife or a reincarnation cycle again.

When Kisuke looks back at Ichigo, the mask is gone, and the white has receded to his jaw.

“Which way next?” Ichigo asks, voice flat and subdued.

Kisuke sighs again, then motions in to his right, away from the new gravesite.

They start walking.

 

* * *

 

Ichigo _was_ injured, as it turns out, just not by the Hollows. They’re holing themselves up in an empty train car for the night. It’s still sitting on the tracks like it’s waiting for passengers, except it’s in the middle of the countryside, over two miles out from the closest town. It’s as good a place as any to sleep in though, and there’s even a river outside running parallel to the tracks for them to at least rinse off.

Kisuke’s just straightening from sparking another Kidou fire when he catches Ichigo swiping absently at his jaw with the back of his hand. He turns sharply when he sees it come away with a wet smear of blood. “Kurosaki-san?”

It takes a moment for Ichigo to react, and then he blinks at Kisuke like he’s still not sure Kisuke is referring to him. “Yeah?”

Kisuke gestures wordlessly at his hand, and when Ichigo glances down, he doesn’t look surprised. “Oh, yeah, that still happens sometimes.”

He digs into a coat pocket and retrieves a pack of tissues, clearly used to mopping up excess blood.

“I thought you healed it,” Kisuke says in neutral tones even as he searches out the trickles of blood seeping out from where Hollow bone is melded to flesh.

Ichigo shrugs, lifting his hand to his jaw again. A flash of blue passes over the bone, and when he wipes away the blood again, nothing more takes its place. “I did. And I’ve healed it again now. I _can_ heal it.”

“Then every time you use your Hollow-”

“Yeah.”

“...Have you considered _not_ using it then?” Kisuke enquires mildly.

He gets an annoyed look for his efforts. “I don’t use it much. But sometimes it’s just handier. And it doesn’t really hurt anymore. Half the time I don’t even notice if it’s bleeding.”

 _That would be the destroyed nerves_ , Kisuke thinks sardonically. He taps Benihime against the floor of the train once before offering, “I know some healing techniques as well. Would you let me try?”

Ichigo’s expression immediately turns wary. “It’s healed, you know. I just healed it. There’s nothing you can do.”

Kisuke just levels a patient look on him until Ichigo heaves a sigh and takes a seat on the floor. “Alright, whatever. Knock yourself out.”

Still, despite his acquiescence, when Kisuke crouches down in front of him, his entire frame is braced for a blow as if he expects Kisuke to attack him, and it only gets worse when Kisuke reaches for his face.

Kisuke stops short, studying the boy carefully. “I am not going to hurt you, Kurosaki-san.”

Ichigo grunts, and it’s about as much acceptance as Kisuke’s probably going to get. He bites back a sigh of his own and concentrates on peeling aside the collar of Ichigo’s coat. Green healing Kidou shimmers into existence around his hands, and despite how tense he is, Ichigo eyes the light with as much curiosity as suspicion.

“Healing Kidou,” Kisuke explains. “It uses the patient’s reiatsu along with the healer’s to facilitate healing.”

Ichigo says nothing. He twitches when Kisuke lets his reiatsu wash over the area around the bone, scanning the cellular makeup of both Hollow and Human parts. It… isn’t like Masaki’s, although she has very little Hollow left in her after having three children. But even before, when Kisuke first treated her, there was a very clear… divide between Hollow and Human, like blocks tossed in a bag, mingling together but always _separate_.

Ichigo isn’t like that. His are… _fused_ , for lack of a better word, like sugar and milk mixed into coffee. Kisuke’s hands itch for a microscope, the _DNA_ would be a marvel to study-

“Self-sustaining regeneration,” Kisuke murmurs, shaking away his less relevant musings for later. “At a very rapid rate. Your human body - in this area - is constantly eroding, but you regenerate what you lose almost as quickly. The blood is from when you… I suppose you could say, tip the balance too far towards your Hollow side, and your healing has to catch up.”

Most of the nerves _are_ gone though. No longer functional. But… only the ones found in the skin. The Hollow bone however… that seems about as sensitive as skin would be, and…

Kisuke frowns. He absently reinforces the weakest points of the bone with a flick of his own reiatsu and kills the beginnings of an infection of all things near the hinge of Ichigo’s jaw. It seems as if Ichigo’s earlier transformation reduced the _age_ of it, making it fragile enough that Kisuke’s pretty sure a direct hit in the right spot could probably shatter it. Erosion and regeneration… like newly healed bones, over and over again, forever weaker than they should be because of it, and his Human composition apparently makes him susceptible to outside forces like bacteria in a way pure Hollows and even Shinigami-turned-Visored aren’t.

He’ll have to find a way to fix that.

In the meantime, his eyes trace the way the partial bone mask extends the length of Ichigo’s jaw, along the left side, down his neck, around to the back, and disappearing under the sweater Ichigo is wearing beneath his coat. He makes to scan that too - how far does it go? It doesn’t seem to restrict Ichigo’s movements, and the bone seems more stable in the neck area, _older_ , but he wants to know-

A hand catches his wrist, and Kisuke looks up, pulled out of his observations in an instant.

“I’m fine now,” Ichigo mutters, gently but firmly pushing Kisuke away. “I- whatever you did, I felt it, and it feels better, so thanks, but I’m good now.”

For a moment, Kisuke almost argues. But he watches the way Ichigo tugs up the collar of his jacket again, discomfort bleaching the colour from his knuckles as his fingers clutch at the fabric, and in the end, Kisuke only nods and retreats to his corner of the train car.

They share a meal again before going to bed.

Kisuke wonders all the while, just how far down Ichigo’s Hollow transformation goes.

 

* * *

 

It isn’t that much of a shock to run into a group of Gillians the next morning. Hollows are everywhere these days.

Kisuke doesn’t even have to wait and see to know Ichigo will jump in, and sure enough, the boy charges into the thick of things without batting an eye at the number of his enemies.

Kisuke does not cut in. He does not cut in until Ichigo turns, half the army of Hollows already dead or dying in his immediate vicinity, and looks at the writhing mass of Gillians still screeching in the distance, too far for Ichigo’s blades to reach.

Kisuke sighs, then-- “Awaken, Benihime,” and the world explodes in a sea of crimson.

Minutes later, Kisuke sheathes his Zanpakutou and makes his way back over to Ichigo, who’s finished off the last of his designated opponents as well.

Kisuke arches an eyebrow when he finds himself under Ichigo’s intent regard. “Yes?”

Ichigo cocks his head. “I could’ve handled that.”

“Yes,” Kisuke agrees, because Ichigo could have.

Ichigo stares a while longer, then shrugs and lets his blades disperse in twin clouds of reiatsu. “Right. Let’s check for survivors.”

There aren’t any, but this time, Kisuke finds evidence of fresh tire tracks leading hastily away from the impromptu battle. Whoever the Gillians cornered, they took Ichigo’s interruption to flee.

The remaining mostly-eaten corpses weren’t so lucky. There’s not even enough of them to bury so Kisuke sets them on fire, and he and Ichigo don’t leave until there’s nothing but ashes left.

 

* * *

 

Something changes from that point on, subtly but noticeably all the same. While Ichigo still maintains some distance between them as they travel, on occasion he drifts closer, voluntarily asking about Kidou, about Hollows, about Shinigami, and he doesn’t tense so much when Kisuke asks again each night to check his Hollow manifestation. In return, Kisuke never pokes at anything covered by clothing. It’s pretty clear Ichigo is uncomfortable with it so Kisuke refrains for now.

Three nights pass before Ichigo asks if his sisters are happy. Kisuke tells him they are, as much as they can be in this world, and protected, as much as they can be. He tells him about the birthday party they threw for the twins only two months ago. He even describes the chocolate cake they managed to bake for the occasion.

He politely pretends not to see the way Ichigo turns away huddles into his coat, blinking too quickly before he shakes his hair into his eyes to hide it.

 

* * *

 

They meet two Espada on the seventh day.

Or, well, a Garganta warps the sky almost right on top of them, and a tremendous amount of reiatsu - unmistakably Arrancar-level - thunders down and floods the area. Ichigo freezes for all of a second, and then - for the first time since Kisuke’s known him - instead of procuring his Zanpakutou for imminent battle ( _Can it still be called a Zanpakutou? Does it have a name? Has it fused with Ichigo as well?_ ), Ichigo lunges for _Kisuke_ and bundles him into the nearest building, which happens to be a gas station, and they end up scrambling for cover behind the counter where they still have a good view of the smashed front windows.

“Listen,” Ichigo whispers urgently. “It’s Aizen’s guys coming through, the ones with the bad dye-jobs that he likes sending after me. Those Espada Hollows you told me about. Since they’re here at all they’ve already sensed me but sometimes they can’t find me if I hide well enough and then they go away. I mean as long as it’s not one of the crazy ones. Then they just start destroying everything. But if it _is_ one of the crazy ones, you stay here and I’ll draw them off. They’ll only want me; they won’t be interested in you even if they sense you. You’ll be able to get away once I’m far enough out. Alright?”

Kisuke stares for a moment. “No.”

Ichigo blinks, genuinely bewildered, and it’s probably one of the saddest things Kisuke’s ever seen. “What? Why? They’re after me! You don’t have to worry, you’ll be fine, I promise they’ll be a lot more interested in me than you even if they _see_ you. But I guess, just in case, you can wait a bit first, and then just sneak out the back and go around-”

“Kurosaki-san,” Kisuke cuts him off, smiling light and pleasant and utterly false. Ichigo’s mouth shuts with a click. “Disregarding what your mother would do to me if I returned without you, it is to no one’s benefit to allow Aizen’s top lieutenants to wander about freely. Lower-class Hollows are one thing - they spawn without end, and I find little purpose in killing ten only for a hundred to take their place elsewhere. Arrancar are different, especially Espada. Even Aizen with his Hogyoku needs time to find Vasto Lorde-class Menos to replace his most powerful Arrancar. Killing even just one is a worthwhile endeavour.”

Ichigo frowns. They both dart pensive looks out the windows when muffled voices reach their ears, and the reiatsu pressure around them seems to double.

“They’re really strong!” Ichigo hisses, pitching his voice even lower.

Kisuke raises an eyebrow because yes, he knows that, did he not just say that?

Ichigo frowns even harder. “I _mean_ , whenever I fight one of these guys, they _don’t stop until I stop them_. I’ve fought six of these assholes already, six times. I had to kill four of them or they would’ve killed me. There’s no retreating with them. They’ll fight until they’re dead, and literally everything around us gets destroyed. The only reason I escaped the other two times was because I used the sewers to get away.”

Kisuke takes a moment to digest that. “You’ve killed four of Aizen’s Espada?”

Ichigo scowls impatiently. “Yeah? I just said that. But that’s why we should split up. I can always find you later. And just-” A complicated expression passes over his face. “-just don’t tell my mom and you’ll be fine.”

Before Kisuke can say anything back, a caustic voice booms out, “You Shinigami worm! Stop hiding! I won’t let you get away this time!”

Ichigo heaves a sigh. “Great. It’s the big dumb one.”

A fist descends on the fuel dispensers outside, flattening them in a loud crunch of metal. “Ulquiorra! Where is he?”

Another smash - this time splintering a nearby copse of trees - swallows whatever reply Ulquiorra gives, and everything left in the store shakes with the force of it. Ichigo grimaces, and his reiatsu flickers across his shoulders as he rolls onto the balls of his feet. Clearly, there would be no hiding today. “Right, you should-”

He stops again upon hearing the quiet clink of Benihime leaving her sheath. Kisuke meets Ichigo’s startled gaze calmly. “After you, Kurosaki-san.”

For a moment, Ichigo looks like he wants to argue. Then he closes his eyes and huffs out an irritated breath. “Fine, whatever! Do what you want. Just don’t die.”

Kisuke offers a more serene smile this time even as Ichigo’s reiatsu lashes out and coalesces into his two blades. “Your concern is appreciated. Do remember to take your own advice as well.”

Ichigo rolls his eyes very pointedly before dumping his bag to the side, and without another word, he leaps over the counter and hurls himself out of the gas station.

“Hey! You! Pissed and ugly! Over here!”

A split second later, an explosion rocks the very foundations of the store, followed by an angry shout and the distinctive clash of metal on metal.

Kisuke idly draws Benihime and tucks the sheath away before glancing over his shoulder at the sound of glass crunching underfoot. “How kind of you to come to me. And here I thought I would have to chase you down for a fight.”

Dull green eyes set in a pale blank face stare back at him. His voice is equally monotonous. “You are the one known as Urahara Kisuke. Aizen-sama has expressed an interest in your skills. You are to be captured.”

Kisuke turns to face the Espada. He’s a small one, not even as big as some of the lower-levelled Arrancar. There’s no number that Kisuke can see at first glance but his Hollow hole is dead center in his throat.

He focuses on the Espada’s face again, bringing Benihime up in a lazy arch of a swing. “I’ll have to decline that invitation. Sitting down for tea with a butterfly is not what I would consider a good time.”

He gets a disinterested blink in return. “It was not an invitation.”

Kisuke sighs. One of those then. No sense of humour at all. But then, Aizen never had much of one either.

“I’m afraid I must still-” He smiles, quicksilver sharp, “-decline.”

He brings his free hand forward and fires off a lightning-fast Byakurai even as he leaps backwards and out the windows. “ _Awaken, Benihime._ ”

 

* * *

 

The gas station is flattened in the ensuing fallout. Ulquiorra comes after him with a vengeance after the initial surprise attack, not a scratch on him as he releases a barrage of green Cero. Kisuke dodges three and has to shield himself from a fourth with his own Zanpakutou. The landscape behind him isn’t so lucky.

Ulquiorra is fast. His fighting style relies on speed and perfect precision instead of brute strength, and he needs little to no preparation time between attacks. He’s an impressive hand-to-hand combatant for someone who seems to prefer long-distance Cero blasts. He likes striking from aerial blind spots, above, behind, hit-and-run, but when he can’t, he has no problem meeting Kisuke head-on too.

He’s good, Kisuke has to admit. There’s a few close calls, and once, Ulquiorra even manages to catch his shoulder with a glancing Cero, leaving the flesh burnt and smoking. Their surroundings take a beating too, including the gas station now reduced to wreckage. The roads below crack and shatter every time a Cero hits, and deep gouges are left in their wake, throwing up dirt and cement both, along with an annoying amount of dust and debris.

Destruction aside though, the Espada still fights like Onmitsukidou, and that makes him predictable.

He senses the near-instantaneous buildup of reiatsu from just beyond his peripheral, and with a quick two-step Shunpo, he disappears and reappears behind Ulquiorra, who - in the process of firing off another Cero - is a beat too late to defend himself or jump away, and Kisuke’s blade slices through cloth and sinks deep into skin, Benihime’s red energy tearing apart his back as Kisuke slashes a diagonal line from Ulquiorra’s left hip to right shoulder.

He feels the slightest hitch and give that tells him he managed to nick the Espada’s spine right before Ulquiorra takes off again in a desperate burst of Sonido. He reappears a good ten feet away, coat rapidly soaking through with blood and - for the first time - the slightest disturbance creeping into his flat expression.

Kisuke inclines his head in a distracted mock-salute as he takes the temporary lull to check on Ichigo. The steady pulse of the boy’s reiatsu is a reassuring hum at the edge of his senses, and he can even see the signature black flashing in the distance. Slightly concerning is the way the other Espada’s reiatsu levels seem to be rising with each passing minute, but Ichigo’s reiatsu is matching it drop for drop so Kisuke decides not to worry too much.

Besides, Ichigo has already faced off against four Espada and won. He’s faced _Aizen_ and survived. At the very least, he’ll hold his own for a while longer.

He blinks, and then dodges, spinning away from the sword that tried to stab him through the chest. “Oh, finally taking me seriously?”

He lifts an eyebrow as Ulquiorra turns to face him, slowly enough that Kisuke can see the way the near-fatal strike from earlier is already knitting itself back together.

How unfair.

The Arrancar uniform doesn’t hold together well with Ulquiorra’s movements, and it ends up pooling at his waist in tatters instead, leaving the Espada bare-chested.

“Hmm,” Kisuke catches Ulquiorra’s eye. “Aizen’s Number Four? Should I be flattered or insulted?”

He doesn’t expect an answer, and he doesn’t get one. Not much for talking, this Espada.

He watches Ulquiorra bring his sword up.

“Imprison,” The Cuatro Espada intones, and Kisuke sighs and shifts his weight forward. “Murcié-”

He chokes mid-word.

Kisuke finishes sliding Benihime across Ulquiorra’s throat from behind, nearly severing his head from his body right through the Hollow hole, and it’s with a dispassionate eye that he watches the Espada plummet to the ground below.

“Apologies,” He murmurs, not moving until he feels Ulquiorra’s reiatsu signature flicker out like a guttered candle. “But a Resurrección from the Number Four - I would rather not see it.”

Not in the state Benihime is in right now anyway.

“Now then,” He turns, absently tugging at the remains of his shirt sticking uncomfortably to his injured shoulder. There is absolutely no saving any of his clothes at this point. In fact, he’s actually looking forward to burning the set.

He squints into the distance instead, at the war of red and black energies clashing and parting and clashing again, sending shockwaves in every direction. Ichigo doesn’t seem to be having any trouble, except…

Kisuke frowns, then Shunpos closer, skirting the worst of the aggressive waves of reiatsu and approaching the Espada from behind, which isn’t hard-- whatever number this one is, it’s enormous, most like with its Resurrección already released, all gigantic arms and eight thick legs and a tail, and the Cero it shoots out isn’t even aimed in Kisuke’s direction, just the opposite, but-

Kisuke throws an arm up against the wind and braces his feet as the red explosion of energy hurtles through the air, hits the ground, and obliterates everything in its path, tearing up dirt and trees and concrete, and by the time the light dies enough for regular sight to work again, there’s a deep groove stretching at least a mile out, leaving only smoking ground in its wake.

The Arrancar roars, sounding positively enraged, and Kisuke only gets a split second to wonder if that means Ichigo managed to escape from that attack entirely unscathed before he glimpses another beam of dark crimson, this time heading towards the Espada and by extension _Kisuke_ , and with a bitten-off curse, Kisuke flashes away, as far out as he can get in a single step, and then he whirls and slashes up with Benihime, erecting her shield just as the outermost edge of the Cero slams into it and almost knocks him clean off his feet.

It feels like hours before the relentless pounding weight of the Cero finally lets up, tinting the world in eerie blood-red panorama, but the shield holds, even if half of it disintegrates in the aftermath, and when Kisuke glances behind him, he finds nothing but charred earth and destruction and a canyon-like chasm right down the middle that doesn’t seem to end.

_That’s impossible._

Kisuke _saw_ Ichigo’s Cero. Even if Ichigo reduced its power output to just one percent of its usual strength at the time, there’s still no way a full-powered one can cause this much damage, at least not without destroying his own body in the process with the amount of backlash it would’ve caused. The Cero itself would’ve been too unstable to do anything but implode. A human simply can’t handle it, no matter how integrated with his Hollow Ichigo is.

He lets the rest of the shield dissipate, and after a moment of indecision, he begins heading back to the ground zero site again. It isn’t difficult-- Kisuke can see it from here, the dark hulking shape of the Espada and the crater that it’s halfway slumped into.

Kisuke lands just a few feet away from the Arrancar. Dead, by the looks of it. Half its torso is missing, leaving a blackened stump behind, and the pieces of its Hollow mask are gone. A chunk of its throat went with the blast, and its face is an unrecognizable mess of ruptured burns.

There’s a hush in the air. After the noise of the battle, violent but _alive_ , the silence is almost unnerving.

Kisuke looks around, then takes three steps forward and peers into the crater. It’s empty, with the exception of a few of the Espada’s cut-off legs that weren’t completely turned to ash.

He can’t sense Ichigo. There’s too much leftover reiatsu lingering in the air - both Ichigo’s and the Espada’s - for Kisuke to pinpoint a single body’s worth of it.

“Kurosaki-san?” He calls out cautiously. “Kurosaki-san? Are you-”

Kisuke still can’t sense Ichigo. But between one breath and the next, some part of his hindbrain shrills an alarm in his head, like prey reacting to the presence of a predator even when they can’t see that predator coming. Kisuke - unforgivably - freezes like a green Academy graduate on their first mission gone south, and then he spins around and finds himself face to heart-stopping face with a fully-masked humanoid Hollow standing only a mere couple feet away from him.

 _Vasto Lorde_ , Kisuke instinctively thinks, and he can feel his own pulse pounding high in his throat.

It’s tall, taller than him, especially with those horns that arch up from its masked head before slanting forward and ending in two sharp points, but it’s not particularly bulky in size. Its skin is entirely white, and its Hollow hole sits dead center just beneath its collarbones. Red tufts of fur circle its wrists and ankles and wrap around the back of its neck like a fur collar, and black markings decorate its mask and upper chest.

And the only reason Kisuke _just_ manages to bite back the Kidou spell that’s already on the tip of his tongue is the fact that this Hollow also has long orange hair falling to its waist and the tattered remains of Ichigo’s clothes hanging off its body.

Still, his hands jerk, Benihime rising and then dipping again, and he has to force himself _not_ to use his Zanpakutou with extreme prejudice because everything about this creature screams danger even if it’s not actively trying to kill Ksuke right now, not to mention it’s standing far too close for comfort.

It managed to _sneak up on him_ \- that alone is enough to set off his fight-or-flight instinct, and it’s a struggle not to act on either.

“...Kurosaki-san?” Kisuke finally enquires, his voice admittedly a little fainter than he’d like. He stays very still, and while he’s still holding Benihime, he deliberately keeps her pointed at the ground, telegraphing harmlessness even as he readies himself to leap back at a moment’s notice. “Can you understand me?”

The Hollow cocks its head and growls softly through a mouthful of fangs. It takes a step forward, and Kisuke has to work to keep his breathing measured and steady despite the sliver of fear that lodges itself in his chest.

_This close, if it attacks, can I evade in time?_

Kisuke has never met anyone fully Hollowfied who still retained their mental faculties. Shinji and the others all go berserk when their transformations take them over. They almost had to kill Hiyori when she nearly failed to overcome her Hollowfication, and to this day, _all_ the Visored have to keep their Hollow instincts tightly reined for fear of them losing control again and being reduced to nothing more than mindless aggression, and the Hogyoku’s constant influence only make things worse. There are days when Kisuke wakes up to one or more of them half out of their minds and trying to eat someone. Then the kids would be rushed to the saferoom post haste, and the rest of them would spend the next few hours subduing whichever Visored went feral that time long enough for them to beat their inner Hollow back into submission.

(Once, only once, they couldn’t contain Mashiro in time, and she escaped the warehouse before they could stop her. They managed to track her down and drag her back and lock her up in a Kidou barrier until reiatsu exhaustion kicked in and her hornet-esque Hollow form dissolved, but not before she massacred an entire refugee camp and was in the process of hungrily ripping into a human girl when they caught up to her.

She didn’t remember anything when she woke up, and to this day, not a single one of them has been brave enough or cruel enough to breathe a word about it to her.

It wears on them, Kisuke knows. Sometimes, he catches Rose staring blankly at nothing, his sword tap-tap-tapping against one knee. Other times, he wouldn’t see Hiyori at all, locked in her room and only coming out when Shinji kicked her door down and dragged her out, desolate and silent and not even protesting, with even darker bags under her eyes.

But Shinji was the one who asked him, just once, in the dead of night when neither of them could sleep-- _“Promise me you’ll kill us if it ever looks like ya can’t contain us. Don’t wait again. Just kill us. Gimme your word.”_

Kisuke promised, and Shinji smiled at him that night like he’d done something incredibly kind.)

(Sometimes he wonders when even these safeguards and oaths won’t be enough.

Sometimes he wonders when he’ll wake up and start finding corpses instead of monsters in their home.)

So they can’t transform into a fully Hollowfied state on command. Then again, you could say they can just by _letting go_ of their tenuous control, but they certainly can’t _while_ remaining entirely sane.

But this Hollow-- _Ichigo_ , he doesn’t attack. He moves another step closer, then another, until he’s looming over Kisuke and seemingly studying him through the dark holes of his mask. Intelligent amber-yellow eyes glint from within, and Kisuke dares to relax his grip around the hilt of his Zanpakutou just a little.

“Kurosaki-san,” He greets as lightly as he can. “You worried me for a moment. That was quite the Cero you fired.”

The Hollow- _Ichigo_ makes a snorting noise and leans down, and when there are suddenly claws at his bare shoulder, Kisuke has Benihime up and poised to sever the Hollow’s femoral artery with only the slightest flick of his wrist.

Hollows aren’t Humans. Nor are Shinigami. But the physical structure of their respective bodies are close enough that the major artery running through the thigh is still a gusher.

A strained sort of stalemate follows. The Hollow breaks it first with another growl, this time distinctly more irritable. Its claws graze the air above Kisuke’s shoulder as it retracts its hand, and then it’s pushing past Kisuke on surprisingly silent footsteps, heading towards the dead Espada instead.

Kisuke watches it- watches _Ichigo_ , because it’s still Ichigo in there, isn’t it? He watches him go, angling Benihime away at the last second to make sure she doesn’t graze him since it doesn’t seem like Ichigo cares much about sidestepping her.

One kick is all it takes for Ichigo to boot the colossal Arrancar into the crater. Kisuke catches a glimpse of a partially burned zero on its chest before it disappears into the crater, hitting bottom with a thud that rocks the ground, and then Kisuke gets a front-row seat to the Cero that almost overpowered him - the ball of energy pulses into existence between the tips of Ichigo’s horns, the energy coalescing in swirling bright red before releasing, hurtling forward and crashing into the crater, detonating the ground in one earth-shaking crack of pure raw power.

There’s nothing left in the aftermath, unless you count the smoke billowing skyward and the rubble left behind. Ichigo himself straightens, not looking the least bit tired after his encounter with Aizen’s top Espada. He turns to Kisuke again, and Kisuke can’t help tightening his grip on Benihime again.

Ichigo stops and just… stares. Kisuke stares back, and then without a word he seals Benihime and even sheathes her back into her cane form.

He can practically hear Yoruichi telling him how stupid he’s being, and with any other Arrancar, with one that might be _Vasto Lorde class_ , he wouldn’t even think of putting Benihime away but…

Ichigo growls again, doesn’t approach, and instead begins heading in the vague direction of where the gas station used to be. He puts his back to Kisuke, like a dare, or maybe a sign of trust, and after a moment, Kisuke follows, farther than he would if it was Ichigo-the-Human next to him but probably still closer than common sense would approve of.

Ichigo doesn’t glance at him again though, at least not until they reach the site of Kisuke and Ulquiorra’s initial confrontation, and even then, all Ichigo does is start kicking debris aside.

Miraculously, he actually manages to unearth a mostly intact - if dusty - duffel bag, and there’s something almost comical about a Hollow with a bag dangling from its claws.

“Would you like me to carry that?” Kisuke offers politely. He doesn’t move when Ichigo looks over at him, and when he gets a face full of those claws as Ichigo thrusts the bag at him, he doesn’t even flinch.

Ichigo growls, and Kisuke takes it as thanks. “You’re welcome. Now we should probably move on before another Espada appears.”

Ichigo makes a sharp snarling noise, tossing his head disdainfully, and Kisuke finds himself smiling a little. “I’m sure you can handle another one but I personally wouldn’t want to face more Espada and then have Aizen show up on their heels.”

Ichigo snorts but shrugs right after. It’s good to see even Ichigo’s Hollow instinct has some self-preservation. Kisuke shoulders the bag and gestures to his right. “Let’s go then. Hopefully, we won’t have to stop again. Our destination isn’t too far off now.”

He wonders if he should ask Ichigo to change back. But then, if Ichigo _could_ , he probably would have already. Maybe it takes some time. And so long as Ichigo remains reasonably sane and non-violent, at least towards Kisuke, Kisuke figures it doesn’t matter.

For now, they set off again, together. Kisuke can’t quite _not_ keep half an eye on Ichigo’s looming form, but he also manages to suppress the urge to reach for a weapon when Ichigo falls into step beside him with only a few feet between them.

If Ichigo didn’t attack him when he was coming off battle adrenaline after killing that Espada, Kisuke reasons, then most likely he isn’t going to attack now.

 

* * *

 

By the time night falls, Kisuke is still sneaking glances at Ichigo out of the corner of his eye but no longer because he’s wary of an attack. He can’t help but wonder-- _Does this count as an Arrancar form? How long can he stay like this? Can he transform voluntarily or was it desperation? He doesn’t seem uncomfortable or shocked so this can’t be his first time._

If Ichigo notices, he doesn’t show it. He walks like a human, although the way he looks around and cocks his head to listen for something is entirely animal. When they bunk down for the night in a barn on abandoned farmland, Ichigo disappears for a while, only to return with three dead rabbits that he drops practically in Kisuke’s lap like some kind of cat after successfully hunting down the resident mice.

Kisuke blinks between the rabbits and Ichigo, who even with a monster’s face seems to exude expectant impatience.

“...Thank you,” Kisuke says belatedly. Ichigo harrumphs, stalks off to crouch at the entrance next to the broken barn doors, and doesn’t look at Kisuke again, even after Kisuke skins and cooks the meat and asks if Ichigo might want some.

Kisuke sets some aside for him anyway. Then he gets to work healing up his shoulder until the it’s only a faint ache, with the skin scabbing over, before leaving it alone and rolling himself up in a blanket beside the fire instead.

He falls asleep far more easily than he thought he would with a monster watching over him.

 

* * *

 

He wakes at dawn to a series of cracks and grunts, and he’s wide awake and clawing his way out of his makeshift bedroll the moment he realizes where the sounds are coming from.

Ichigo’s bent over and gasping for breath, half-in and half-out of his transformation. Most of the mask has flaked off to reveal his actual face, and he only has one horn now, along with the bone along his jaw on the left. Kisuke hurries over, only to hover uncertainly to one side as white skin recedes, but only partially. His left side regains its slightly tanned human flesh but his left remains chalk-white, extending from his jaw, down his neck and shoulder, and-

Kisuke’s eyes drop to Ichigo’s torso. Or where a torso _should_ be. And it _is_ there, in a way. Except the carapace spreading from his jaw ends just below the wing of his left shoulder blade, a bit like a shoulder guard, and everything below that looks-

Well, it looks like something most people would see in a biology textbook ( _and very few people would see in the bowels of Kisuke’s labs or the cells of the Onmitsukidou's interrogation rooms once upon a time_ ), the human body with all the skin peeled back. Dark corded muscle stretch over Ichigo’s left chest area down to his abdomen and ending just above his waist where more white bone takes over and disappears into what’s left of the pants still belted around his waist. His left arm is similarly exposed, all muscles and tendons from bicep to wrist where Hollow-white takes over before that also fades to a perfectly human hand. Oddly enough, four rib-like bones protrude from his back, probably from the vertebrae, and curve around the left side of his body like they’re meant for protection, and how does that even _work?_ Are they actually Ichigo’s ribs or does he have a second set underneath or-?

Kisuke shuffles a step closer. He thinks he can see the pump of a heart and the up-down of a working lung under all the chest muscles, but there are also rivulets of blood leaking from everywhere and-

And then he gets a foot to the gut that propels him back a good five feet with all the air knocked out of him.

“ **Go _away!_** ” Ichigo snarls, still with the echo of Hollow in his voice and somehow more feral _now_ than he was in full transformation. He curls away from Kisuke, hiding his left side even as his breath seethes from between gritted teeth, noises of pain not quite trapped behind them as his Hollow form falls away.

Kisuke winces, gingerly patting his front, but he levers himself back onto his feet without pause and tries to edge closer again. “Kurosaki-san? Are you-” Well that’s a stupid question. “...I can numb the pain, at the very least, until you’re finished.”

Ichigo doesn’t even look at him, and when Kisuke takes another step, the boy throws an arm out, the normal one, black reiatsu already snapping into existence, and a blink later, he has Kisuke at knife-point.

Kisuke stares from the blade to the floor of the farm where Ichigo’s blood is already staining the stray pieces of hay and spreading like some macabre painting. He considers backing off, waiting it out the way Ichigo’s obviously done before, and then he lifts a hand and rests it very lightly against the side of Ichigo’s wrist.

Ichigo doesn’t stab him.

“I can help,” Kisuke offers quietly. “I will not hurt you, Kurosaki-san.”

For a long minute, the blade doesn’t waver. Ichigo hacks out a wet-sounding cough, and another crack cuts through the air before more bone pieces drop to the floor, only to dissolve before they hit. More blood spills from Ichigo’s body and pools on the ground, and Kisuke says just a touch harshly, “ _Ichigo_.”

A beat, another, and then the trench knife disperses in an ink-like smog, and Kisuke meets no resistance as he pushes Ichigo’s arm aside. He wastes no time hurrying over, and a moment later, Kidou surges from his hands to the nerves that are practically screaming with pain to Kisuke’s senses. They’re obviously not as bad off as the ones in Ichigo’s jaw, they can still _feel_ , but that seems more a curse than a blessing right now.

It takes almost fifteen minutes before the bleeding stops. By that point, Ichigo’s all but leaning against Kisuke from exhaustion, and Kisuke pointedly does not think about the boy handling all this on his own with no one around to even comfort him. Kisuke’s not great at comfort either but at least he can urge the healing along while easing Ichigo down onto a patch of ground that isn’t stained with drying blood.

Ichigo nods off shortly after, which isn’t so surprising. _Kisuke_ feels tired, and he barely did anything.

It’s easy enough to heft Ichigo into his arms and carry him over to the where the Kidou fire is still burning. He lays him down on the blanket and checks him over again, scanning for further injuries, but everything looks… fine. More than fine actually, considering a third of Ichigo’s skin is missing and he lost what seemed like half his weight in blood earlier.

Kisuke heaves a sigh. No wonder Ichigo was uncomfortable with Kisuke getting a look under his shirt. He’s… tempted to look further now, beyond just a medical scan, especially with Ichigo mostly naked already, but…

He grimaces and turns to dig into Ichigo’s bag for the other blanket and some spare clothes.

When they get back to the warehouse, maybe Kisuke can do some tests. He’ll ask. Surely Ichigo will see the sense in making the transformation less agonizing if he insists on continuing to use that other form.

And even if he doesn’t, Masaki certainly will.

 

* * *

 

Kisuke sits patient vigil until Ichigo wakes shortly before midnight almost sixteen hours later, jolting up like he’s been electrocuted and only calming when he catches sight of Kisuke.

“Easy,” Kisuke murmurs, grabbing the bottle of water he took out earlier. Ichigo’s hands look steady enough so he hands it over.

Ichigo stares at him for a moment before taking the bottle and gulping down a few mouthfuls. The blanket Kisuke previously pulled up to his shoulders has pooled around his waist, and while Ichigo free hand clenches around a piece of it, he makes no move to yank it back up.

Kisuke hands him a cup ramen next, still hot, with the last of the rabbit meat thrown in, before busying himself with tucking away one of the worn paperbacks in Ichigo’s small collection. Who knew Ichigo likes Shakespeare so much? He has five books in total and one of them is a complete anthology of Shakespeare’s plays while another two are just selections of 16th-century poetry.

“How are you feeling?” He enquires as he turns back to Ichigo.

“Fine,” Ichigo mumbles. “I always am. It just takes a while.”

Kisuke nods and doesn’t push the issue. “Then, if you feel up to it, I thought we could pack up and get on the road again. The warehouse we live in isn’t that far from here. If we walk through the night, we’ll probably be there by morning.”

Ichigo straightens, something complicated flitting across his features. But he’s already nodding his agreement, and it isn’t just hunger that has him gulping down the rest of his noodles at double his earlier speed. When he finishes, Kisuke simply hands him a fresh set of clothes for him to change into before getting up to give the boy some privacy.

“You’re not going to ask?” Ichigo calls after him.

Kisuke glances back briefly. There’s a sharpness in the way Ichigo looks at him, like he’s being tested. “I probably will. At the very least, I’ll ask for some DNA samples, if only so I might be able to figure out a way to ensure that your Hollow transformation isn’t going to leave you practically comatose for over twelve hours every time. But of course, Kurosaki-san, you don’t have to agree, or answer.”

He pauses for a moment, waiting for a response, but when he doesn’t get one, he continues making his way out of the barn, skirting around the bloodstained patch of floor. It looks like a murder took place here. Then again, that’s not exactly a rare sight in this day and age.

He returns five minutes later when he hears Ichigo packing up, and he ends up getting a shirt and some jeans thrown in his face.

“You’re practically wearing rags,” Ichigo grumbles at the blanket he’s folding up. “You’re about my size. Change.”

Kisuke blinks at him, then huffs out a breath of amusement and does as he’s told. It _is_ a relief to be able to change into something that isn’t practically crumbling at the seams, even if it isn’t his usual choice of clothing. They’ve managed to find a few water sources over the course of the past week, or Kisuke’s been able to use Kidou, but there’s only so many times you can wash a single set of clothes before it’s beyond help.

He sets his discarded shirt and pants on fire but keeps the coat. By the time he gets back to Ichigo, everything’s stashed away, and Kisuke only has to douse the flames.

“Ready?”

“Lead the way.”

 

* * *

 

“Kurosaki-san-”

“You can call me Ichigo. Nobody calls me ‘Kurosaki-san’. I mean nobody calls me ‘Ichigo’ either, obviously, but you’re gonna have four people answering if you call me by my surname around my mom and my sisters.”

“...Very well. Ichigo-san then.”

“Hm. So. What?”

“Would you like to learn Shunpo?”

“Shunpo?”

“A means of travel. Much faster than walking.”

“...Okay. What do I do?”

 

* * *

 

Familiar landmarks begin cropping up at around seven in the morning. Kisuke almost sighs in relief. He’s forgotten how tedious walking is, and while Ichigo has picked up the basics of Shunpo over the past few hours at a rate that would impress Yoruichi, he’s still not ready to travel long-distance with it. It probably helps that he’s been unconsciously utilizing the technique in battle already but applying it when there isn’t an immediate need is different.

Honestly, Kisuke should’ve started teaching him from the beginning, but somehow… somehow he didn’t feel like he could offer until now.

They reach the first invisible seal barrier, and Kisuke swiftly grants them both access in a matter of minutes, guiding Ichigo through the process of adding just a spark of his reiatsu into the mix and then twining Kisuke’s own reiatsu into the template like a series of passwords to bypass the safeguards and make the seals accept Ichigo as well.

Tessai or Hachigen will have noticed by now. Kisuke’s sure their welcoming party is already assembling.

“Stay behind me,” Kisuke tells Ichigo. “Most of us are rather… paranoid about strangers these days, and even before, quite a few were the hit first type.”

Although one look at Ichigo’s face would probably be enough to give most of them pause if they do try to attack. Ichigo doesn’t have the Shiba bulk but his looks are almost identical to Kaien’s.

Ichigo shrugs and nods, pulling up the collar of his coat even as he falls back a step to trail Kisuke as they make their way forward. They pass the second barrier and the warehouse ripples into existence. Kisuke can practically sense the tension coming from Ichigo now, which is understandable. Kisuke isn’t exactly entirely relaxed either. Previous concerns rear their heads again.

_What if Yoruichi and Tessai didn’t make it back?_

But then, in the distance, the front doors slam open, and Kisuke almost laughs as a familiar figure with distinctive purple hair comes hurtling towards them through the air, not quite hitting her fastest speeds but still a near-invisible blur.

“ _Urahara Kisuke,_ ” Yoruichi yowls at him as she bears down on them from above. “ _WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!_ ”

She doesn’t throw her arms around him or anything so dramatically emotional because that just isn’t something she does, but she _does_ make him catch her, right before she twists both of them to the ground and gets him in a bastardized chokehold of a hug. She’s probably one of two people Kisuke would ever let so close to his neck like this so he yields with grace and lets her drill merciless knuckles into his head for a moment. Her head dips briefly, and her bangs fall forward with the motion just enough so that Kisuke’s the only one who sees the momentary glimmer of tears in her eyes before she’s blinked them away again.

Then she’s hauling him up and giving him a firm shake before jabbing a finger into his chest. “You better have a damn good reason for being _late_ , Kisuke!”

He holds up his hands in protest. “I do!” He gestures at Ichigo. “I even brought it home with me!”

He suspects Ichigo might be scowling at him but most of his attention remains split between Yoruichi - who’s no doubt already noticed his companion and registered him as a non-threat based on Kisuke’s own undisturbed reiatsu but didn’t actually get a good look at Ichigo’s face until now, if the widening of her eyes is anything to go by - and the gaggle of people filing out of the warehouse in twos and threes.

“Tessai-san got back alright as well?” Kisuke asks in low tones.

“What? Yes of course,” Yoruichi assures distractedly, still staring at Ichigo. “We both got back five days ago. You-” She breaks off like she isn’t sure how to finish that sentence.

Ichigo nods politely - if stiffly - at her but his gaze returns almost immediately to the warehouse, darting from one new face to the next with little interest, until-

“Urahara-san?” Masaki’s voice rings out as the woman herself hurries outside in easy Hirenkyaku steps, sleeves already rolled up, brown hair bundled up into a ponytail, clearly geared to interrogate him for any injuries at the soonest possible opportunity. “You’re back! Are you alright? What took you so-”

She stops. Stops talking. Stops moving, freezing mid-stride as she catches sight of Ichigo still standing a few feet behind Kisuke. For a moment, it even looks like she stops breathing.

Ichigo mirrors her, stone-still, shoulders slightly rounded, and in the ensuing silence, Hiyori’s voice is jarringly rude, “Who the hell are you?”

Another beat of silence, and then- “Ichigo?”

Even Kisuke has to hide a wince at the heartbreaking hope twined with disbelief in Masaki’s voice.

Ichigo doesn’t wince but he shifts his weight like he wants to run. Then he glances at Kisuke, something almost desperate in the tightness of his expression, and Kisuke’s summoning up his best encouraging look before he can even think about it. He probably misses by a mile because he’s never exactly been in the business of encouraging anybody, but something about it must be enough for Ichigo because the boy turns back to his mother, shoulders rolling uncomfortably before he says haltingly, “Hey Mom. It’s been a while.”

The seconds drag on, one, two, five, and then, in a blink and a rush of reishi, Masaki is suddenly standing in front of Ichigo, and before Ichigo can do more than take a jerky step back, she’s lunged forward and caught him in a hug.

“You- How- _Where have you been?_ ” She shrills, voice cracking mid-sentence. “ _I thought you were dead!_ ”

Ichigo stands rigid in her arms, and he flinches at first contact. He doesn’t return her hug but he also stays very very still as Masaki promptly bursts into tears against his shoulder.

“I-” Ichigo flounders for a moment before finally settling clumsily on, “I’m sorry.”

Masaki just cries harder.

Kisuke clears his throat and gives everyone a pointed look. “Shall we head inside?” He smiles sharply at them all. “This isn’t a sideshow after all.”

That at least snaps the more mature members out of their blatant staring. Shinji shoots him an odd look but he only snags Hiyori by the back of her sweater and starts hauling her back towards the warehouse. When she opens her mouth to scream at him, he slaps a hand over her mouth too. Kensei chivvies Mashiro along, and everybody else follows.

Yoruichi falls into step beside him just as the twins appear in the doorway up ahead. Karin says nothing but Yuzu whispers, “Onii-chan?”, and they both drift outside with eyes only for their mother and brother.

“How on earth did you find him?” Yoruichi mutters as they leave the Kurosaki family to their reunion.

Kisuke’s never believed in fate, but sometimes…

“I didn’t,” He steps into the warehouse, and no matter how stifling it can get here, he’s still missed the familiarity of it. “He found me.”

He glances back over his shoulder just once. The twins have joined Ichigo and their mother, and from this angle, Kisuke can just make out the white-knuckled grip Ichigo has on the back of Masaki’s shirt.

He looks away and reaches out to shut the doors.

Explanations can wait.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Over the next few days, the story comes out in bits and pieces. The first day back, Masaki drags Ichigo in with her about half an hour after their impromptu reunion and tells them in no uncertain terms that her son would be staying.

“I don’t have to,” Ichigo says awkwardly, twitching a little when Masaki glares at him but not backing down. “Um, I mean I know this is pretty sudden, and you don’t even know me. So-”

“If you think I’m letting you out of my sight-” Masaki starts heatedly.

“I won’t _leave_ ,” Ichigo says hastily. “I’ll be nearby. You can come visit. Or I can visit you.”

“That’s ridiculous! It’s dangerous out there!”

Behind his perpetual frown, Ichigo looks equal parts amused and apologetic. “I’m sure I’ll be okay.”

Shinji cuts in before anybody can say anything else. “It’s fine.” He watches Ichigo with an assessing eye but when he nods at the boy, it’s a friendly enough greeting. “We’ve been tryin’ ta help your mom look for ya since she joined us anyway. Ya stayin’ here was always the plan. And we’ve got plenty o’ room.”

Ichigo frowns, not as if he wants to outright reject the offer but uncomfortable with it anyway. Again, he looks at Kisuke, who glances around the room before nodding. “I would hardly have brought you along in the first place if your presence here wasn’t welcome, Ichigo-san.”

Ichigo frowns even harder but Kisuke’s familiar enough with that expression by now to realize the boy isn’t necessarily objecting, only uneasy.

“See?” Masaki says briskly, not quite able to hide her relief. “You can stay, Ichigo. When was the last time you even had a proper meal? Are you hungry? I should probably give you a checkup first-- you and Urahara-san both - but if you want to eat something, I can make you anything-”

Masaki rambles on, like she’s trying to fit seven years’ worth of mothering into one conversation. Kisuke watches the tension build in Ichigo’s shoulders again, especially after Masaki mentions a checkup.

“I looked him over already,” Kisuke interjects smoothly. “He seems fine. A little underweight but nothing some regular meals won’t fix.”

He gets a glare in response. “And which of us is the doctor here? Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you either.”

Kisuke flicks the briefest of glances over her shoulder at Ichigo, who scowls but nods curtly when Kisuke catches his eye.

“Then,” Kisuke continues blithely. “Perhaps we should get that checkup over with now. I would very much like a shower and a change of clothes before anything else, and I’m sure Ichigo-san feels the same. We can head over to the medical wing first while the others get started on breakfast.”

Everybody stares at him. Kisuke blinks back guilelessly until Ichigo clears his throat and slips around Masaki to tuck himself just shy of Kisuke’s shadow.

“That sounds good,” He says gruffly. “I mean, if that’s okay.”

Masaki seems to give herself a mental shake, smiling steadily at Ichigo instead. “Of course it is. I can make sure both of you are fine, and then you can get some breakfast before you crash. You look like you could do with some sleep too.”

Ichigo nods mutely. Masaki isn’t deterred. “Karin, Yuzu, could you get the bedroom next to yours aired out?”

The twins nod at once. Yuzu waves shyly at Ichigo before scampering off, while Karin only casts him a wary look before following her sister.

They would’ve been… five or six the last time they saw their brother, Kisuke thinks. Masaki’s never let them forget him, always showing old photos and mentioning him in conversation, but there’s bound to be an adjustment period now that Ichigo is actually here.

“This way then!” Masaki says brightly. She passes Ichigo, and her hand drifts out like she wants to grab his hand or arm, and then she hesitates. A second later, she lets her hand come all the way up to gesture down one corridor instead as she heads in that direction.

Ichigo watches her go, and he only starts moving when Kisuke steps up beside him and gives him a nudge.

“Most of the people you just saw were Visored,” Kisuke murmurs as they follow Masaki down the hall.

“Not like me,” Ichigo retorts grimly, and Kisuke can’t argue that.

“So how did you two meet up?” Masaki asks, spinning around to walk backwards, looking between them curiously.

Well at least that’s an easier question than all the other ones looming ahead.

“Ichigo-san found me,” Kisuke says brightly before slanting a smirk at Ichigo. “You should be proud, Masaki-san. He saved my life. Takes after you when it comes to healing.”

Ichigo’s ears go red, much to Kisuke’s delight. Apparently, _something_ can embarrass him.

“I didn’t!” The boy protests, scowling at Kisuke. “You said you would’ve been fine. I just… sped it up a bit.”

“You know how to heal?” Masaki interrupts before Kisuke can try and tease him some more. She _does_ look proud.

Ichigo shrugs, no longer embarrassed, only discomfited under his mother’s attention, but he answers anyway after a stilted moment of silence. “I remember the stuff you showed me when we were- back then. And then I just built on it. It’s not like I’m a doctor or anything.”

“Even so,” Masaki beams at him. “Not everyone can manipulate reishi just like that. Yuzu has the talent for it but Karin takes after Isshin more.”

She must catch the way Ichigo stiffens at the mention of his father too because she quickly tacks on, “I’ll tell you about him, of course. I’m sure you must have a lot of questions, about him, and our family. Have you- You can use reishi but has it just been for healing? Can you do anything else?”

“I-” Ichigo starts, then stops and grimaces. “I can do some stuff, yeah.”

When he doesn’t go on, even in the face of Masaki’s expectant look, Kisuke offers, “He takes after both you and Isshin-san actually. But I don’t think that’s the most important issue at the moment. We’re here.”

They are. The warehouse has multiple examination rooms and even one for surgery. Masaki bustles through the first door and makes a beeline for her equipment. “Alright, you’ll need to at least take off that coat for me to do a scan. If you’re not comfortable with Urahara-san in the room, he can wait outside.”

Kisuke glances at Ichigo, who doesn’t look at him but also makes no move to step further than a foot into the room.

He sighs and shuts the door firmly behind him. “Masaki-san, there are some things you should know first.”

Masaki stills, and then turns around, her gaze going sharp and intent. “...I thought there might be. And I suppose you’ll be the one telling me?”

Kisuke looks at Ichigo again, but true to even just the week he’s known this boy, Ichigo squares his shoulders and steps forward. “No he won’t. I can- I’ll show you.”

He reaches for his collar.

Kisuke doesn’t leave the room, but he does settle against a patch of wall, making himself as unobtrusive as possible as Ichigo reveals what the Hogyoku’s done to his body, and he averts his eyes from Masaki’s devastated face as Ichigo begins to explain.

 

* * *

 

Two days, a couple hot showers, proper hot meals, several hours of sleep, and a new set of his usual clothes later, Kisuke finally feels human again. Ichigo hasn’t been seen since Masaki whisked him off to the Kurosakis’ set of rooms. They’ve even taken their meals there, and the twins are equally elusive.

It’s morning again. Kisuke’s in his lab and halfway through a new notebook, jotting down everything he’s observed about Ichigo and his powers and transformation when there’s an impatient knock on his door. He finishes his sentence, seals the book with a nifty Kidou lock, and tucks it away in his desk before calling, “Come in.”

Of course it’s Yoruichi. Tessai’s still on bedrest. Even with Masaki and Hachigen’s combined skills, his legs were pretty badly broken, so even though they’re healed as much as they can be, it’s better for him to stay off his feet as much as possible for a while longer.

“So,” Yoruichi closes the door before sauntering over to perch on a chair. She gives him a pointed look. “Kurosaki Ichigo.”

Kisuke arches an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“The others are wondering about him. Why he left, why he’s back, how powerful he is. Most of them don’t have a very high opinion of the last one-- he doesn’t seem to have much reiatsu, does he?”

It doesn’t sound much like a question though, coming from Yoruichi, and she mirrors Kisuke’s snort with a smirk of her own. “That strong? And he must be personable too behind all that scowling if he managed to charm you.”

Kisuke hums and doesn’t answer directly. “How could you tell? That he has more reiatsu than he lets on.”

Because the Ichigo everyone’s seen so far keeps his reiatsu so tightly reined that it barely seems to fill a thimble compared to the average lieutenant.

Yoruichi scoffs. “Not many people impresses you. Ichigo does, I can tell. He also fascinates you, which I’m guessing is why you’re already holing yourself up in your lab, but if you were _only_ fascinated, you wouldn’t have hovered the way you did yesterday.”

“I would hardly call it _hovering_.”

Yoruichi only rolls her eyes. “You hovered. You get possessive about things you like, and you like things that impress you. Or a person, in this case.”

Well she isn’t wrong, and they’ve known each other far too long for Kisuke to deny it with any measure of success.

“So why _is_ he back?” Yoruichi probes. “Or why did he leave in the first place? Masaki never did make that very clear.”

Kisuke shakes his head. “Your guess is as good as mine, Yoruichi-san. Ichigo-san didn’t tell me.”

He ignores Yoruichi’s considering scrutiny in favour of adjusting his hat and rising to his feet. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I do want to check up on him. Make sure he’s settling in alright. I suspect he’s been a bit of a nomad up until now.”

Yoruichi makes an amused noise, but all she says is, “Introduce me to him later, properly.”

Kisuke casts her a dry look. “As a woman or a cat?”

Yoruichi just grins, and that in itself is an answer.

 

* * *

 

When Kisuke knocks on Ichigo’s door, it opens several seconds later to reveal its new occupant, who - dressed in new jeans and a large sweater that hides all hints of his Hollow side - looks wary at first, right up until he sees who it is. Then his expression melts into one of relief before that fades as well. “Hey, it’s you. Um, did you need something?”

Kisuke studies him for a moment before motioning casually down the hall. “I thought you’d like to join me for some fresh air. Most everyone else is still asleep so we won’t even bump into anyone on our way out.”

The relief comes back twofold. “That sounds great. Let me just grab-”

He disappears and reappears with his worn duffel bag, either repacked or never fully unpacked to begin with. Kisuke’s not that surprised.

They make their way outside, and as soon as the morning breeze hits, despite the stink of carrion and blood it carries, Ichigo’s entire frame seems to loosen, the tension pouring off of him like water.

They end up on the roof. The silence between them is as companionable as it grew to be when they were travelling together, and something in Kisuke is as pleased as it is guilty to see the way Ichigo trusts him enough to lower his guard like this when it’s just the two of them again.

“She thinks it’s her fault,” Ichigo says abruptly. He gestures at himself. “The whole- Hollowfied thing. I’ve been trying to tell her it’s not, and it’s not like it hasn’t been useful, but-”

Kisuke says nothing. He doesn’t know how to comfort someone in this situation, and he doesn’t think Ichigo _wants_ comfort anyway.

“And that wouldn’t be so bad by itself,” Ichigo continues almost grimly. “But she also thinks it’s her fault I ran off back when I was ten.”

Kisuke glances at him. “...And was it?”

Ichigo heaves an irritable sigh. “No. It was mine.”

He doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the early morning.

 

* * *

 

Hiyori insults the poor boy’s intelligence, strength, and manhood within two minutes of all of them congregating in the dining area. To be fair, Hiyori insults everyone except Ururu, Yuzu, and Masaki. Ichigo’s the only one who doesn’t react by either throwing insults right back or humouring her with exasperated indulgence. Instead, he blinks at Hiyori like she’s something alien and strange, looks at Kisuke like he’s trying to figure out how to react, and then simply nods and proceeds to ignore her.

Hiyori _hates_ being ignored.

“Hey, I’m talkin’ ta ya, dumbass!” Hiyori snaps, and she follows that up by springing into the air and launching a kick at him, sandals first of course.

Masaki’s head snaps around from where she was checking on the eggs. She doesn’t approve of Hiyori’s language but even she’s grown resigned to it, and she’s always given a certain amount of leeway to the Visored. Karin gives as good as she gets, without the swear words when Masaki’s within hearing range, and Yuzu gets a pass, and that’s usually good enough for Masaki. She was willing to let the insults go for her son too but apparently an attack is a step too far, and her eyes narrow on the former lieutenant even as her hands spark blue. Everyone else stands around, watching on with interest.

Kisuke’s the only one who reacts appropriately.

“Ichigo-san,” He reminds sharply just as he feels the faintest whisper of Ichigo’s heavy eldritch reiatsu. “She’s friendly.”

And Ichigo - thankfully - reacts to that accordingly. The tendril of hostile reiatsu disappears, and Ichigo dodges instead, watching Hiyori dubiously as she goes sailing past him, landing on the ground and skidding a few feet out of sheer surprise at having missed.

Then she rounds on him again, eyes flashing yellow on black, and Kisuke grimaces. Must be one of those days then, especially with Ichigo’s presence here. Hollows are half animal instinct after all-- this is their territory, and Ichigo is more or less a stranger. The Visored have gotten used to the necessity of holding back their inner Hollows, but it’s also for exactly that reason that sometimes it gets too much anyway.

It was never a solution, what they do. Just a stopgap measure that blows every few weeks when the pressure gets to be too much.

Shinji must see it too because he curses and pushes off the wall he was leaning against. “Alright, that’s it. C’mon Hiyori-”

Hiyori roars, her reiatsu spikes, and like clockwork, Masaki lunges for the children while the Visored scramble to either subdue Hiyori long enough to get her into the training grounds or prepare to prevent her from escaping the warehouse.

“Ichigo!” Masaki barks as she rushes the twins and even Jinta and Ururu to the door. “Come with me, now! We need to get clear!”

Ichigo frowns, not like he particularly wants to object but like he’s… confused. Kisuke pauses, one hand lifted for a Bakudou spell, eyes on the tiny blonde who’s half-masked and howling at this point.

_Animal instinct._

“Never mind, Ichigo-san,” Kisuke calls out, loud enough to cut through the rising din. “Go ahead, but can you focus it only on Hiyori-san? And don’t kill her.”

He shouldn’t even be suggesting this. As adept as Ichigo’s shown himself to be at hiding his reiatsu, channelling it with pinpoint accuracy is a whole different matter, and yet-

Ichigo only nods once, darts in under Kensei’s attempt at shoving him back, avoiding the man’s arm with an instinctive mix of Shunpo and plain God-given speed powered by a touch of reiatsu, and snags Hiyori by the collar of her sweater. Before she has time to do more than twist around and shriek at him, teeth bared, full-masked and feral, Ichigo’s released his grasp on his reiatsu and brought it crashing down on the warehouse like a tsunami.

He does manage to hone it to a point, centered directly on Hiyori and contained inside the room. But even concentrated, there’s just _too much_ of it, and the excess sends all but Kisuke, Yoruichi, and Shinji to their knees, and even the three of them stagger where they stand. Masaki and the children have already cleared the door so they only look a bit shaky as they peer back inside at the chaos.

Hiyori chokes and freezes in Ichigo’s grip. For a second, she jerks like she still wants to lash out with her clawed hands, but Ichigo - three-quarters of his face now covered in a mostly white mask with only his right eye and the patch of skin around it uncovered - jerks her up into the air so that they’re eye-level and promptly snarls right in her face, guttural and commanding.

Hiyori instantly quails, a high whimper trapped in her throat, and when Ichigo finally drops her again, she scuttles back until she hits a table leg, shivering like she’s been dunked in ice water, and no longer making any move to attack anyone.

Slowly, her mask dissolves, piece by piece. Her eyes flicker from yellow-on-black back to her usual brown, and eventually, all traces of her inner Hollow disappears.

Kisuke releases a silent breath he didn’t realize he was even holding. He stiffens when Lisa moves just as Ichigo takes a step back, only to stop again when the tip of her blade presses into the fabric of his sweater, but he only cranes his head around, already looking annoyed even as his own Hollow mask ripples away, and he bats the sword aside with one careless hand.

“Get that thing away from me.” His hand comes away with a shallow cut across the back, but it’s already knitting together again in the next moment. He looks around at the shocked faces all around him and scowls harder. “You people are so weird.”

“ _We’re_ weird?” Hiyori blurts out, her voice perfectly normal again. She stares up at Ichigo like she’s never seen anything like him before. “Ya just- What the fuck did ya just do?”

She still sounds slightly dazed. Ichigo turns his frown on her. “...You can’t control it.”

Hiyori glares shakily and scrambles to her feet. The full weight of Ichigo’s reiatsu is gone again, and in its absence, there’s a certain buoyancy left behind that’s almost dizzying.

“Are ya sayin’ _you_ can control yours?” It’s Shinji who cuts to the heart of the matter. He’s already sheathed his sword, and his gaze flits between meeting Ichigo’s eyes and taking in the bone along his jaw that’s been revealed with his little display of dominance. “Ya have it, right? An inner Hollow?”

Ichigo shrugs indifferently. “Kinda. And yeah, I can control it.” He squints at Shinji, then the other Visored. “Why can’t you?”

More than one person there bristles. Kisuke has to hide a smile.

“It’s not like we don’t _want_ to!” Kensei snaps, still keeping a guarded eye on Hiyori, but she seems fine now. “But we can’t! It’s impossible to hold it back all the time-”

“Why the hell do you need to?” Ichigo interrupts, sounding equally cross. “You need to control it, not fight it.”

Kisuke’s amusement fades, and he straightens because this is something he doesn’t know. This is something he has not considered.

(A hundred years ago, he stabilized the Hollowfication process for Shinji and the others. The Hogyoku disrupted it again, and after the first time their Hollow halves were yanked out against their will, none of them wanted to risk summoning their masks _voluntarily_.

But Kisuke hasn’t been able to find another way to fix it either.

Surely then, it can’t be as simple as what he thinks Ichigo is implying?)

“If we don’t fight it, it takes over,” Love cuts in, teetering somewhere between frustration and resignation. “Maybe your Hollow is different since you’re still Human, but our Hollows-- they’re all anger and bloodlust-”

He cuts himself off and grimaces like he wants to take the words back. It isn’t something they like acknowledging, the base set of instincts they now have.

“Well yeah,” Ichigo says slowly, still looking at them all like he’s not sure whether they’re making fun of him by playing dumb. “But that’s-” The confusion’s back, along with a heavy dose of impatience. “Look, when you’re angry, and you bottle it up and never let it out, eventually, you’re gonna blow up at someone, right?”

“Are ya suggestin’ we should sit around and talk about our feelin’s?” Hiyori spits out. Her shoulders hunch defensively when Ichigo looks at her again, and her right foot twitches half a step back.

“No,” Ichigo huffs. “I’m suggesting maybe you _shouldn’t_ keep it bottled up all the time.”

“Ya mean sparrin’?” Shinji speaks up again, and he looks like the only one who’s taking Ichigo seriously. “We’ve tried that. But if we fight too hard, our Hollows start takin’ over again, and we don’t actually wanna kill each other, which is what happens when our Hollows come out. We just attack everythin’ until it’s dead.”

Everybody pointedly does not look at Mashiro.

Ichigo stares at Shinji, then at Kisuke, then at the rest of the Visored, and then he asks with a frank sort of incredulity, “Are you stupid?”

An indignant murmur sweeps the room. Masaki shifts in the doorway like she isn’t sure if she should reprimand her son.

Ichigo just cuts a hand through the air like he’s waving all their affront away and scowls right back at everyone. “There’s like a million monst- Hollows out there. If your Hollow wants to kill something, just go find a couple hundred every few days and kill _them_. Nobody’s asking you to kill _each other_. And you even have those shield things so you can just set up a barrier to contain the fighting to a specific area.”

A stunned silence falls.

“...Are ya sayin’,” Shinji’s still watching Ichigo with unblinking eyes. “That your solution is ta kill a bunch o’ Hollows, on the regular?”

Ichigo shrugs. “Yeah, basically. I mean if you have something that wants to kill stuff, at least point it in the right direction. That’s… common sense, isn’t it?”

The silence resumes, a speechless one full of disbelief.

“That’s dumb,” Hiyori mutters rebelliously, arms crossing. “That’s never gonna work.”

Ichigo rolls his eyes. “Well whatever the hell you’re doing isn’t working either, is it? I’m just saying - repressing emotions isn’t good for you. Why would you think repressing _these_ emotions would be any better?” He shrugs again when he gets a few strange looks. “I read an anger management book a few years back.”

He looks around once more, scowling abruptly like he just realized he’s talked more in the past few minutes than he has since he got here. “I thought we were gonna have breakfast.”

When nobody moves, he scowls even harder, and his hands come up to adjust his sweater until the collar of it is hiding his jawline again. That prods Kisuke into gear, moving forward and reaching for Ichigo’s face almost mechanically, one hand already glowing green. Ichigo lets him tilt his chin up and heal the minor damage, and he says nothing despite how obvious Kisuke’s distracted motions - however careful as always - must be.

On his part, Kisuke’s mind races over the implications of Ichigo’s solution to it all. It can’t be that simple, it just can’t. It’s just… _too simple_. For one, how will the inner Hollow even know to stop when all its prey is dead?

And yet, Ichigo explains it like he has those instincts too, if not the inner Hollow itself, but Kisuke has personally witnessed the boy go full-Hollow and still remain perfectly sane. Largely non-verbal, yes, but he didn’t attack Kisuke, didn’t even act like he _wanted_ to and was holding himself back. He was just… Ichigo in a different form.

 _Is that why_ , he thinks suddenly, _Ichigo goes out of his way to fight every group of Hollows he comes across?_

It’s obvious Ichigo fights them to save people when he can. But what if that isn’t the only reason? The Espada were the only ones he wanted to hide from, and that was mostly just for Kisuke’s benefit.

So Ichigo fights Hollows practically daily, and he probably has for years. The Visored don’t. For the most part, they stay cooped up in the warehouse where it’s safe, and they spar without tapping into even a third of their strength, but they never dare do more than that for fear of unleashing their inner Hollows. Kisuke hasn’t been able to make it safe, hasn’t found a way to _fix_ it, but…

But maybe it isn’t about fixing it. Maybe it’s about learning to live with it.

“We’re gonna eat breakfast,” Shinji is the one to break the silence again. He gives them all a narrow-eyed look. “Then I’m goin’ out and findin’ some Hollows ta beat up.” He jabs a finger at Ichigo. “You’re comin’ with me. Kisuke, Tessai, you too. We’ll need barriers, just in case.”

Hiyori automatically opens her mouth to argue. Kisuke’s convinced that half the time it’s just habit for her by now and not that she actually disagrees.

“Ya believe him?!” Hiyori demands. “He’s crazy!”

“Actually, he’s not,” Shinji says flatly, and it’s rare - even these days - for him to be as serious as he is now, and Hiyori falters in the face of it. “That’s kinda the point.”

He glances at Ichigo, who shrugs and nods curtly. That seems to satisfy Shinji.

“Right then,” He starts rolling up his sleeves. “Breakfast. Masaki, the eggs?”

Are burning away on the stove, and Masaki hastily dives over to turn it off. She also glances back at Ichigo though, troubled but not fearful or disgusted, thankfully. Then she looks at Kisuke, and belatedly, he realizes he still has a hand cradled around the curve of Ichigo’s jaw. He quickly finishes healing the last of the hairline fractures before letting go, feeling uncharacteristically flustered. Ichigo only nods his thanks and turns away to take the plates Yuzu passes to him, clearly not noticing anything amiss.

The rest of the morning is spent swinging stilted conversation and restless silence. Ichigo, most of all, seems like he wants to be anywhere but there. Kisuke can’t blame him-- most of the other Visored won’t stop staring at him, with suspicion, with disbelief, with accusation, as if being able to control his Hollow instincts is something they can’t help resenting. It’s enough to strain anybody’s nerves but probably especially someone who’s used to being on his own. Barely midway through, Ichigo looks about ready to march right out, grab his bag, and take off.

“I need to grab a few things from my lab before we leave,” Kisuke says abruptly, refilling his teacup before picking up his empty plate and getting to his feet. “Ichigo-san, come help me with it. An extra pair of hands won’t hurt.”

For a split second, Ichigo looks grateful enough to hug him, but he’s frowning enough that nobody else can tell. Instead, he downs the rest of his water and mutters a quick thank you for the meal before following Kisuke to the sink to drop off his cutlery.

“Onii-chan!” Yuzu calls out just before Ichigo can leave. Ichigo goes still before glancing cautiously back at his sister. The thirteen-year-old looks tentatively hopeful as she asks, “When you get back, maybe we can do something together?”

Beside her, Karin doesn’t look up from her food but she’s also very obviously listening with the way her fork stop halfway to her mouth.

Ichigo blinks like this is the last thing he expected to hear, but then his features go soft in a way Kisuke’s never seen before, and he even manages a smile despite the frown that still pulls at his brow. “Yeah, sure. You can show me what you get up to around here.”

Yuzu beams, the line of Karin’s shoulders relax, and some of the worry clouding Masaki’s expression clears.

But Ichigo’s smile drops the moment they exit the dining area.

“You don’t have to,” Kisuke says quietly as they make their way down the hall.

Ichigo scruffs a frustrated hand through his hair. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just… awkward. And I’m glad they’re not too mad at me or anything. I mean I left-” He sinks deeper into the collar of his sweater. “I left in the middle of the night when they were sleeping. I didn’t really expect them to even remember me.”

“Your mother made sure they remembered,” Kisuke reveals.

Ichigo just nods. “Yeah, she’d do that.”

Kisuke studies him out of the corner of his eye for a while longer. Well, now is as good a time as any. “...Did you leave because your Hollow side was beginning to show?”

Ichigo glances at him, startled. That’s a no then.

“No, that came years later,” Ichigo confirms. He says nothing else for long enough that it’s a bit of a shock when he goes on. “I have a lot of power.”

They reach the door of his lab, and Kisuke pauses with a hand on the doorknob, glancing back at Ichigo, who shrugs like a whole world of grief isn’t engraved in the tired lines on his face. “I couldn’t always hide it. And Mom used to tell me it wasn’t me that made all the monsters come after us but I knew she was lying. There were so many close shaves, and she was exhausted all the time, taking care of us and killing the monsters and just- All of us almost died so many times. We couldn’t do it forever. _Mom_ couldn’t do it forever.”

Ah, that’s…

“So you left.”

“So I left.”

...Well, if anyone would understand the concept of sacrifice when it comes to love, even at the age of ten, it would be Kurosaki Ichigo, wouldn’t it?

“That day, I saw you,” Ichigo reveals unexpectedly. “You and Yoruichi-san and Tsukabishi-san. I _did_ see you go into the building, but I followed you there in the first place because I saw you lead the Hollows away to give your friends time to escape.” He watches Kisuke with steady eyes, and Kisuke stares, speechless, at the honest respect he finds there. “That was really cool of you. I don’t see that sort of thing much anymore.”

Kisuke turns away and even tugs at his hat as he focuses on unlocking the door.

Anything to hide the flustered, embarrassing heat rising in his cheeks.

 

* * *

 

Before they start, Ichigo tells Shinji, “Since you’ve never done this before, you might have to fight until you tire yourself out.”

Shinji unseals his Zanpakutou and keeps his eyes on the stampede of Hollows that Kisuke tossed out some bait to attract.

“Let’s hope ya got enough Hollows for me ta kill then,” He shoots back with a grim sort of mirth. “Just keep the barriers up no matter what.”

They’ve located a whole city empty of people and set up the seals around it. The barriers go up as soon as Shinji steps within its borders.

An hour later and he’s still going strong. It took maybe a minute after he tapped into his Hollow reiatsu for him to devolve into little more than a feral beast, and any concern over whether the three hundred or so Hollows would be too much for him vanished early on.

“There’s only a dozen or so left,” Kisuke mutters as all three of them peer into the screen connected to one of the camera-flies currently recording Shinji’s rather one-sided massacre. “And he doesn’t look to be slowing down at all.”

“That’s fine,” Ichigo says, and Kisuke glances up in time to see the boy’s twin blades materialize.

“Hirako-dono is the strongest of the Visored,” Tessai murmurs from where he’s sitting next to Kisuke, one eye on the barriers.

Ichigo cocks his head and looks at the video again, then shrugs. “I’m stronger. Let me in please.”

Tessai glances at Kisuke, who thinks of every battle he’s seen Ichigo fight - and win - so far and nods. “Let him in. He’ll be fine.”

He gets an odd half-smile from Ichigo for that vote of confidence, and then he’s gone, disappearing into the city in a rush of Shunpo.

Ichigo _is_ fine, and the next two hours are spent showing off exactly how fine he is. As soon as the last of the Hollows are cleaved apart, Ichigo flares a small portion of his reiatsu, and Shinji locks onto him like a homing missile. At this point, the blond isn’t just masked, he’s halfway through a full transformation and completely out of his mind, but no matter what he hurls at Ichigo - Cero, Sakanade, savage hand-to-hand - Ichigo just gives back as good as he gets. He flings Shinji through more than one building, and the ring of their blades echo through the whole city time and time again. Several times, the barriers take a beating from a long-ranged Cero but they hold, and Tessai adds another layer every time it happens.

It takes a grand total of four and a half hours before Ichigo sinks an unforgiving foot into Shinji’s gut and sends the Visored careening into the only remaining camera-fly, which abruptly cuts their video feed. Kisuke swears under his breath but there’s nothing for it-- he only brought five, and they’ve all been destroyed as collateral.

“Boss,” Tessai calls, and Kisuke looks up to see two figures limping out of the smoking ruins that the city has been reduced to. Tessai opens a door for him without asking, and Kisuke spares just enough time to grab Benihime before Shunpoing inside.

He needn’t have bothered. Ichigo is half-supporting, half-carrying Shinji as they make their way towards him, but to be able to do that at all, Shinji has to be-

“Yo,” Shinji croaks out, awake and aware and _sane_ , and even managing a weary grin when he spots Kisuke’s astonishment. “So ’parently, ya dragged home one badass powerhouse, Kis’ke.”

He trips and would’ve fallen flat on his face if not for Ichigo hauling him back up.

“You-” Kisuke starts, then stops, unsure of how to continue.

“He’s fine,” Ichigo says gruffly. There’s a gash above his eye that’s still dripping blood, and parts of his sweater have been shredded, but otherwise, only his dishevelled appearance gives away the fact that he was in a fight at all. “I told you-- just had to tire him out.”

“Ya sure did,” Shinji slurs with a loopy-looking leer that seems to fly right over Ichigo’s head, and then the blond dissolves into wheezy giggles. “Fuck ’m tired.”

Tired, but happy. Kisuke hasn’t seen him this happy in a long time. Even stumbling along and barely conscious, high on leftover adrenaline more than anything else, there’s a brightness to his eyes that hasn’t been there in years, possibly decades.

Shinji was Hollowfied, almost fully Hollowfied and completely out of control, and this time, instead of locking him up and waiting ( _hoping_ ) he would successfully subdue his own inner Hollow once again, instead of stifling those instincts and shoving them back into the shadows of his soul, Shinji had the Hollows to take it out on, and then Ichigo, until he worked through his inner Hollow’s entire plethora of anger issues, and now-

Now he’s more or less upright and talking, with no real injuries to speak of, and no pain that Kisuke can sense, not the soul-deep kind at least that always came after a tussle with their inner Hollows. He isn’t fighting a fever or struggling for his life either, which is what usually happens in the aftermath of a transformation.

“I’ll probably have ta go the full mile a couple more times, huh?” Shinji muses, slanting a questioning look at Ichigo, who nods.

“Probably, but it’s fine. If there aren’t enough Hollows, I can handle you.”

Shinji grunts his agreement and doesn’t bother making another innuendo. Instead, he swings his head around to peer at Kisuke, and whatever he sees makes him roll his eyes.

“Get over yourself,” He says gruffly as Tessai slowly drops the barriers around them. “Ya can’t know everything.”

Kisuke tugs the brim of his hat down and turns away.

No, maybe not.

But he should’ve known this.

 

* * *

 

Shinji walks back into the warehouse under his own power. Considering a clash with their inner Hollows usually means being laid out for at least a week afterwards, there are demands to know what happened from every Visored in attendance, and even Ichigo can’t escape it.

Kisuke can, and he does, slipping away to his lab with his equipment and recordings. He doesn’t know how long he sits on the single worn couch in the corner, taking idle sips from a sake bottle.

“It was common sense,” He says to the empty air around him, and somehow, hearing it out loud in his own voice makes it even worse.

“In my experience,” Masaki’s voice comes from the door, and Kisuke glances up to find her leaning against the doorway. He must have forgotten to shut the door. “Shinigami tend to lack common sense. But to be fair, I didn’t think of it either.”

“It wasn’t your job.”

“It wasn’t yours either.”

Except it was.

“Aizen turned them into Visored, not you,” Masaki says in matter-of-fact tones. “You have enough sins to carry around without taking on more.”

Kisuke winces. Masaki’s never minced her words. Her son is a lot like her, now that he thinks about it. Ichigo talks less overall but neither of them is the type to beat around the bush.

“I’m assuming you haven’t told Ichigo?” Masaki continues, and it isn’t really a question.

“Would he want to be anywhere near me if I did?” Kisuke asks, equally rhetorically.

Masaki only hums. “I don’t know, he might surprise you. What I _do_ know is that you’re the only one he lets touch him.”

Kisuke blinks at her.

“This morning,” Masaki clarifies, and there’s something unhappy in the pinch of her mouth.

“We spent over a week travelling together,” Kisuke says carefully. “And I healed him a few times. I’m sure he’ll accept your help as well if you give him a few days to adjust.”

Masaki just stares at him like she could outwait the end of the world if that was what it took to get some answers. She could give Tessai a run for his money when it comes to patience, which actually isn’t something one would expect from a Kurosaki.

“...I don’t look at him like his Hollow side makes him less,” Kisuke says at last.

Masaki blanches. “I don’t- I do _not_ look at him like that! I’m not disgusted or-”

“But you look at him as if that side of him is some kind of affliction that you’re sorry for,” Kisuke counters.

Masaki gives him a flat look. “And you don’t?”

Kisuke doesn’t let himself avert his gaze. “I’m sorry for my part in making him that way. But it’s a part of him now, and it’s helped him, so I’m not sorry he has it. There’s a difference.”

And in more than one way too, Kisuke realizes abruptly. Ichigo and his inner Hollow are one entity. Maybe it’s because he’s known that Ichigo doesn’t have a Zanpakutou spirit or any other sentient being in a separate mindscape inside of him since the beginning of their acquaintance, but Kisuke’s always thought of Ichigo, in every form - Human, Visored, or full Hollow - as one being.

He’s never been able to make that connection with the Visored though, when he _should have_. The Visored’s inner Hollow is just their Zanpakutou spirit post-Hollowfication, and their Zanpakutou spirit is just a reflection of their soul, of themselves. Even if they do have separate entities inside them, each of them is still just one person.

...How did he never consciously understand this? That’s basic fact, basic Zanpakutou theory. But somehow, maybe from watching the Visored being driven to the brink of death at the hands of their own inner Hollows, he’s never been able to recognize that, and so instead of trying to reconcile the Visored with their Hollowfied selves, Kisuke’s always tried to-

-to separate them and lock that part away when outright destroying them proved impossible.

“Hey, is… everything alright here?” comes from somewhere behind Masaki, and both of them startle a little as Ichigo comes to stand a few feet away from the door. He glances awkwardly between his mother and Kisuke before telling them, “Yuzu wants me to bake a cake with her but she can’t find the flour.”

Masaki straightens. “Oh, we ran out. There’s more in storage. I can get it.”

“Right, thanks.” Ichigo hesitates. “Maybe you can help too, Mom?”

Masaki smiles, surprised but happily so. “Of course. I’ll be right there, sweetheart.”

She reaches out like she wants to squeeze his hand or ruffle his hair or _something_ , and then she hesitates, and Ichigo’s expression shutters.

“I’ll tell Yuzu and Karin,” He mumbles before ducking away, and he’s gone before either of them can say anything else.

Masaki whirls to face Kisuke again, already glaring, although to be fair, Kisuke already has one judgemental eyebrow raised.

“I just didn’t want to hurt him,” She hisses. “And he flinches when I touch him. How did you get past that?”

Kisuke taps a finger against his sake bottle. Honestly, not much. “I made sure he always saw me coming.”

Masaki stares at him for a moment longer before her expression smooths out, leaving behind something wholly determined.

“Alright, I can do that,” She nods to herself, and without another word, turns and heads off after her son.

It’s something Kisuke admires about her. Masaki never wastes time pretending she hasn’t made a mistake, and she’s always willing to do whatever it takes to correct it.

“But in the meantime,” Masaki pops back in, her features stern and stubborn. “I expect you to take good care of him.”

And then she’s gone again, leaving Kisuke blinking after her.

_...What?_

 

* * *

 

Kisuke begins getting an inkling of what Masaki might’ve been alluding to five days later, at around one in the morning, in the form of a knock at his door. He opens it to reveal Ichigo, in yet another oversized hoodie and some sleep pants and his bag under one arm. But there’s also a feverish light in his eyes that reminds Kisuke of a cornered animal, and before he can think twice about it, he’s stepped back to let Ichigo shuffle in.

“I just need a break,” Ichigo mutters. His reiatsu crackles cagily around him. “They keep waking me up at five and talking to me every time I turn around and _Kuna snuck into my room the other night_ -”

Kisuke forces a hot cup of tea into Ichigo’s hands before steering him onto the sofa. He says nothing at first, just lets Ichigo drink his tea while he pokes around for his hat.

Oh right, he left it in his bedroom. Ah well.

He glances at Ichigo, who seems to be calming down as he clutches the teacup in his hands. The last several days couldn’t have been easy for him. Ever since Shinji came back with his success story, there’s been no end to the Visored - figuratively - dragging him out for their own outings, and Ichigo probably wouldn’t mind that overly much if not for the fact that helping them also means everyone vying for Ichigo’s time almost every waking minute, either in the form of arguments (Hiyori) or random taunting (Mashiro and Lisa) or violent spars (almost all the Visored) or just nosy interrogations about Ichigo’s Hollow, his powers, his past.

And here Kisuke thought _he_ would be the one toeing at lines in the sand and sticking his nose into Ichigo’s business, but so far, he hasn’t even had the chance to ask for blood samples yet. Granted, he’s been busy correcting and updating his notes on Hollowfication and Visored in general but still, _he’s_ supposed to be the mad scientist with loose morals and even less empathy around here.

It doesn’t help that most of them can’t seem to make up their minds about whether or not they actually like Ichigo. They needle him for fights and information, but Hiyori sneers at him constantly and the others swing between cool disdain and an intrusive sort of possessiveness, as if Ichigo’s effortless integration with his Hollow side offends them, but he’s also _one of them_ and they don’t like the way Ichigo acts as if he… well, isn’t.

Ichigo doesn’t much like any of them either, Kisuke suspects, largely because they haven’t given him any reason to. Shinji’s the only one Ichigo is halfway willing to spend time with, and that’s because the blond actually engages him in real conversation and treats him like a person.

Coupled with his sisters and mother, arguably the only people Ichigo _does_ want to spend time with, it’s left him no time for himself, no _space_ for himself, and it’s really little wonder that he looks ready to snap. What _is_ a wonder is Ichigo seeking asylum with _Kisuke_ of all people. Surely the boy remembers that Kisuke too wants to pile questions and tests on him?

And yet he looks more relaxed now than he has in days, and Kisuke can’t bring himself to mind.

 _I can set up seals for your room to keep out anyone uninvited_ , he means to say. What actually comes out is, “I believe I have an extra futon tucked away somewhere in here. If you need a place to hide away for a while without the risk of anyone finding you, my door is always open.”

 _What are you doing?_ reverberates in Kisuke’s head even as the stress in Ichigo’s face eases a little in response to his offer.

“Thanks, Urahara-san,” Ichigo mumbles. He squints down at his tea for a moment. “What is this anyway?”

“...Tea?” Kisuke answers dubiously.

Ichigo rolls his eyes. “What kind? I’ve never drank tea before I got here but even I know this isn’t regular green tea. Although I don’t think I even know how to make that. Do you just dump tea leaves and water into a pot and stir?”

Kisuke can’t help the faintly horrified expression that paints itself across his own face. Ichigo just snorts with laughter upon seeing his reaction, but _this is no laughing matter_.

“What you’re drinking is a herbal tea,” Kisuke lectures. “A white chocolate peppermint rooibos to be exact. I had a pot already made with stasis seals on it, which is why I could give you a cup so quickly, but in no world does tea-making consist of _dumping tea leaves and water into a pot and stirring_. Not if you want to do it right.”

He pauses for breath and finds Ichigo watching him with a tiny quirk of a smile.

“Well, it is pretty good,” The boy admits, glancing down at his near-empty cup. “So you must be doing something right. But there can’t be that much of a difference between fancy tea-making and pouring water on tea leaves. The end result’s the same, isn’t it?”

Kisuke huffs and rises to his feet. “Your education is clearly lacking, Ichigo-san. Up you get. I’m going to teach you how to make a decent cup of tea, and you will never mention those blasphemous words in my presence ever again.”

Ichigo snickers again but he follows Kisuke to the small kitchenette in the next room, eyes widening with surprised curiosity when Kisuke opens a cupboard to reveal rows and rows of neatly labelled tins filled with different ingredients.

Neither of them goes to bed until dawn is creeping in through the single window. Kisuke spends the rest of the night showing Ichigo how to measure out each kind of tea, how to heat the water just right with Kidou, how long each one should sit before it’s done. They end up going through more combinations than either of them cares to keep track of, and Ichigo even finds a favourite amongst them-- a base of red and green rooibos teas paired with peach and pineapple, and topped with chamomile, rose hips, and lemon verbena.

“And you experiment a lot?” Ichigo asks between blissful gulps of his new favourite drink. Kisuke feels rightfully smug.

“When I have time,” He admits, leaning back with his own blend of chamomile tea. “Which isn’t as often as you might think.”

Most days, he’s either half-heartedly going over his research on Hollowfication yet again or trying to figure out some way - any way - to destroy the Hogyoku. Either Hogyoku. Or he’s out corralling out-of-control Visored, or he’s making a supply run.

“Right,” Ichigo nods. “Finding a way to beat that Aizen guy is pretty hard.”

Kisuke takes a long sip from his mug, mulling that over.

_Beating Aizen, huh?_

He doesn’t have the heart to tell Ichigo that he gave up on that a long time ago. They all have. Because even if they do, even if they manage to take Aizen down, then what? The world is still fucked, souls aren’t going anywhere, the reincarnation cycle’s completely broken down.

The world has ended. It’s just decided to take the long way around and drag all of them along for the excruciating ride.

He shakes the depressing thoughts away. He doesn’t want to bring the mood down now. They were making tea. It’s the most fun Kisuke’s had in… longer than he can remember, and he wants to enjoy it while he can.

They while away another half-hour with idle conversation and the rest of their respective teas, and they’re both bleary-eyed and ready to go to bed by the time the murky light of day begins seeping in through the curtains.

Kisuke goes and digs out his extra futon for Ichigo, hesitating only for a moment before setting it out in his own bedroom, making sure to push one side right up against the wall. His lab isn’t exactly messy but it is pretty cluttered. His bedroom has more than enough room for two futons, and it isn’t as if the two of them haven’t fallen asleep in close quarters before anyway.

He leaves a note on his door-- _Do Not Disturb, Sleeping In_. It won’t stop Yoruichi if she decides she wants to barge in for one reason or another because to this day, Tessai is still better at seals than him and he’ll break through easily enough if Yoruichi asks, but - short of an emergency - it will at least let everyone else know why his wards will toss anyone trying to break in right back down the hallway.

Ichigo’s already rolled up in the duvet when he returns, back pressed against the wall with the rest of the room in full view, and his bag tucked to the side at the foot of his futon. He opens his eyes briefly as Kisuke crawls into bed before shutting them again, and judging by his breathing, he’s asleep in another two minutes.

Kisuke listens to the quiet for a little longer. He’s asleep as well before he knows it.

 

* * *

 

That’s how it begins. Or maybe it began even before that, from the improbable moment they crossed paths in the middle of a deserted town, in the collapsed ruins of a building.

Ichigo seems to take Kisuke’s invitation as blanket permission to enter whenever he wants. He takes time out of his day to get to know his sisters and mother all over again, and he joins everyone for meals, but he also cuts down his time with the Visored to only a few hours every day. He’s strong enough to take on all the lieutenants at once, probably all the captains too but they haven’t attempted that yet (Kisuke suspects it might be because most of the Visored’s pride might not be able to take it if they end up losing too), and so every afternoon, they go out and let their own inner Hollows run free for a while.

But Ichigo’s learned to ignore them when they demand more spars, and Kisuke’s seals are strong enough that they can’t get in when he curls up on Kisuke’s couch with a book for the rest of the day.

Kisuke doesn’t mind. Ichigo isn’t disruptive by a long shot, and the first time he notices Kisuke reviewing the recordings of his first impromptu battle against Shinji, he studies him silently for a solid ten minutes before finally rolling up his sleeve-- his left one.

“Samples, right?” Ichigo asks, too casual for it to be genuine.

“You don’t have to,” Kisuke tells him, and he knows there are people out there - or there _were_ at least, and perhaps still are in this very building - who would keel over in shock if they heard _Urahara Kisuke_ asking for explicit permission.

Ichigo just rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you already said. Now what do I have to do?”

If Masaki knows about the three vials of blood and handful of tissue samples and bone fragments now locked away behind a dozen blood-keyed seals, well, she doesn’t confront him about it with an arrow to the face so he’s inclined to think she doesn’t know.

But even just the thought of Masaki is a reminder to Kisuke that he hasn’t been entirely truthful to Ichigo. The boy’s letting Kisuke poke and prod at him; the least Kisuke should do is tell him about his own hand in Ichigo’s birth, in why he even turned out the way he has, in why Aizen wants to kill him so badly.

Ichigo doesn’t know to ask though, and without that push, Kisuke dithers around the secret day after day. The longer he waits, the more time Ichigo spends discussing Shakespeare with him or listening when Kisuke explains his latest hypothesis on the potential viability of using Kidou-generated sunlight to grow their own food or even just sitting together with music playing in the background as they share a pot of tea between them, and the harder it is to just bring up the past out of the blue. Kisuke imagines a dozen scenarios where he tells Ichigo, plans out each sentence, each word, and all of them end with Ichigo storming out and never talking to him again and possibly even leaving altogether.

He knows he’s probably being dramatic, exaggerating the consequences in his mind, especially that last one, but all he can think of is _what if?_ And that just makes him put off the truth for yet another day and another day and another day.

So of course it comes out anyway when he doesn’t plan on it at all.

“Has Masaki-san told you about… everything?” He asks a few weeks in, in the middle of examining the rib-like bones wrapped around the left side of Ichigo’s body. Ichigo sits patiently for him, and so long as the door remains locked without the chance of anyone barging in, he doesn’t even tense when he strips out of his shirt now.

Ichigo frowns, but it’s more pensive than any sort of reluctant. “You mean about- Well she told me about Shinigami and Quincy and stuff, and she told me about Dad being a Shinigami officer and everything before he left because she was infected in that Hollow attack. Oh, and she told me about Aizen. _You’ve_ told me about Aizen.” He shrugs one shoulder. “It’s like a bad story plot, honestly. Power-hungry supervillain wanting to take over the world. Fucked up in the process, and now everything’s gone to shit.”

Kisuke wonders how Aizen would take it if Ichigo said all that to his face, and he has to smile when he pictures it even though nothing’s really that funny about the apocalypse.

“I’m sorry about your father,” He says instead. “We-- Yoruichi-san, Tessai-san, and I all lived in Karakura as well. If we’d gotten there in time, he might have survived.”

Ichigo shrugs again, and his frown deepens. “...Mom’s the only one who really misses him, I think, and even she’s moved on. The girls barely remember him, and I… I don’t really either.”

Kisuke glances up. Ichigo would’ve been about nine when the dead started crawling out of their graves and Hollows invaded en masse; that should’ve been old enough to retain some memories of Isshin.

Ichigo grimaces. “I didn’t exactly tell Mom but…” He falls silent. Kisuke picks up his pen and goes back to scribbling down a few observations. He knows Ichigo well enough by now to let the boy talk at his own pace.

“My control was good enough in just a few years, you know,” Ichigo says, seemingly apropos of nothing. “I think I was thirteen-- maybe fourteen or so. I even started looking for Mom and my sisters again. But that was also around the time Aizen first found me-” Kisuke stills. “-and it was the first time this-” Ichigo gestures at his body. “-happened. I… started changing. And then I forgot everything.”

“You lost control,” Kisuke says with dawning realization. Ichigo’s first time in close contact with the incomplete Hogyoku permanently embedded in Aizen’s chest after the madman Hollowfied himself must have triggered the change.

Ichigo’s features scrunch up for a moment. “Kind of? The first time, yeah. I completely blacked out. When I woke up again, Aizen was gone, my surroundings were completely trashed for miles, there were bodies everywhere, monsters _and-_ and humans-” He glances at Kisuke like he expects him to condemn him for it before rushing on. “-and I was- I looked like I did after my fight with that giant Espada. And I didn’t stop looking like that for a long time.

“I don’t think I lost control again,” Ichigo continues when Kisuke can only stare. “Not like the Visored. I only killed when I wanted to, and I wanted to a lot, especially at the beginning, but I could… I could pick _what_ to kill. Maybe I wouldn’t have been able to if there was a shortage of monst- of Hollows, but there wasn’t, and I remembered enough to stay away from humans. I mean they ran away from me anyway, or they tried to shoot me if they saw me, so I mostly stuck to places where the Hollow population was thickest. And that’s how I lived for- for a long time, months, and I didn’t remember Mom or Karin or Yuzu until I started turning back to human again one day. Even then, I stayed away for… a couple years more, to teach myself how to shift between my human form and my monster form. I didn’t want to- to scare them or something if I suddenly changed in front of them.”

He looks down at his left hand, then at the bone that circles his wrist and up the muscles and tendons that visibly flex when he clenches his hand into a fist before relaxing it again. “But even after I could turn human again, some of my memories stayed… fuzzy. Like Dad-- I don’t really remember him anymore. Not enough to miss him. And a lot of stuff from back before, when everything was still normal, I’ve forgotten. But I remembered Mom and my sisters, I remembered I had to find them again, and I remembered- I remembered I loved them-” He breaks off, and his mouth twists with something self-deprecating. “Sometimes, it feels like I _only_ remember loving them.”

“You can learn to love them again,” Kisuke finds himself saying, even though it’s scant comfort.

Ichigo features softens briefly. “I guess. That’s something at least.” He peers at Kisuke almost warily. It’s an expression Kisuke hasn’t seen in a while. “Still gonna help me?”

Kisuke blinks, genuinely taken aback. He reviews everything he was just told, then stares at Ichigo with more than a little disbelief when it hits him. He opens his mouth to say… something, anything. What comes out is a harsh bark of laughter that sounds strange even to his own ears.

This time, it’s Ichigo’s turn to stare.

Kisuke clears his throat, then reaches for his hat, sitting on his desk. “Have you not heard anything about me from the others, Ichigo-san?”

Ichigo frowns. “Like what? My mom hasn’t really said anything except how you built this place and cobbled together most of the appliances here so they’d keep working, like the stove and oven and fridge, the washer, the showers, all that stuff. My sisters don’t really talk about you. Shinji-san mentioned you were captains around the same time back in the day, although you were still pretty new at it compared to him. And Yoruichi-san said you two used to be spies together or something, and that you grew up together with Tsukabishi-san.” He shrugs. “I don’t really listen to the others, although I know they sometimes get… they sometimes get kinda judgemental about you, and you’ve got history. But yeah, I don’t listen.”

 _No wonder Ichigo keeps showing up at my door,_ Kisuke muses with cynical amusement. _He tunes out everything told to him by anyone who remotely dislikes me._

“Why?” Ichigo asks, eyeing him with a sudden shrewdness that makes him adjust his hat. “Does it matter what they have to say?”

“You don’t really know anything about me otherwise,” Kisuke points out dryly.

Ichigo scoffs. “Of course I do. You’re the type to look after your friends without asking for anything in return, you’re strong, you’re the smartest person I know, and you’re a decent healer even if you’re not as good as my mom. You like tea and puzzle boxes, and you like murder mystery books but only because you think they’re funny. I _thought_ you like science but it’s less that and more that you like learning new things in any field that catches your interest. You wear a watch because sometimes you forget to eat, and it vibrates to remind you not to miss meals. You mostly can’t cook worth a damn, but for some reason, your fried rice is awesome. And sometimes, when you can’t sleep at night, you like listening to either classical music or ambient noise but only rainstorms.” He pauses, then bulldozes on like Kisuke hasn’t already been rendered mute. “You care about the people here in the warehouse - especially Yoruichi-san and Tsukabishi-san - but not really about anybody else. You might go out of your way to help a stranger but you might just as likely not, depending on your mood. You provide for pretty much everyone in this place partly because you care about them but also because you feel guilty for something you think you’re responsible for doing to them. And you want to find a way to make this-” He waves at his torso. “-less painful because you feel guilty for something you think you’re responsible for doing to _me_.”

The torrent of words finally stop, but even then, it leaves Kisuke feeling… shaken. How-?

“I don’t know _that_ much about you,” Ichigo says as if he hasn’t just listed at least half a dozen things Kisuke would bet an arm that nobody except Yoruichi and Tessai knows. And even his childhood friends don’t know what he listens to when insomnia sets in but he’s too restless to focus on any work, because that’s something he picked up after they were exiled. “But I know some things because I saw them for myself.” He snorts. “You think I’d be telling you all this stuff about me if I _didn’t_ know anything about you? I haven’t even told my mom.”

Kisuke turns away sharply and gropes blindly for one of his notebooks, staring down at it without seeing a word. Ichigo says nothing else-- in fact, after a moment, he stands and moves away, which is honestly a relief. It’s ridiculous but Kisuke feels a little like he’s been flayed alive because-

-because he didn’t know when he became such an open book. Is Ichigo just more observant than Kisuke thought, or has Kisuke let his guard down around the boy that much? A combination of the two?

He tenses when hands appear in his line of sight, but the steaming cup of tea makes him- damn it all, it makes him want to smile.

White chocolate peppermint rooibos.

Ichigo takes a seat again as Kisuke brings the cup to his lips. A chime from one of his computers tells him that the latest set of data has finished collating, but glancing over just draws his eye to the coffee table beyond it, the one beside his couch where a stack of books is haphazardly teetering because Ichigo’s taken to devouring everything on Kisuke’s shelves like it’s his life’s mission. But…

Kisuke scans his lab. Ichigo’s second pair of shoes - the well-worn ones he goes out to fight with - are by the door beside his own, and the second desk that Kisuke usually has at least three unfinished projects piled on because he’s lost interest in them but can’t be bothered to properly dismantle them or store them away has been cleared off and reoccupied by several sketchbooks, charcoal pencils, watercolour pencils, _regular_ pencils, and an array of other drawing utensils that Ichigo’s emptied from his bag because he’s apparently something of an artist in his spare time.

And there’s a drawer in Kisuke’s bedroom that’s now reserved for the new clothes Masaki keeps shoving at her son. There’s a second toothbrush and towel set in the bathroom, three quirky tea mugs Ichigo came home with after a supplies run that now sits in the kitchenette cupboard, and the second futon has become a permanent feature.

When was the last time Ichigo even slept in the room Masaki gave him?

He sets his cup of tea on the desk and slowly takes off his hat again, fiddling with it in his lap instead.

“It is hardly equivalent,” He murmurs in low tones. “What you have told me and what you know about me.”

He shouldn’t. He can’t possibly be thinking of just blurting it out. It’s definitely a bad idea-

“I _am_ responsible,” He says abruptly. “For-” He can’t seem to put it in words so he resorts to gesturing vaguely at all of Ichigo. He can’t quite meet the boy’s gaze. “It’s my fault.”

And that’s how Ichigo finds out. How Kisuke tells him. Of two incomplete objects of power created by two brilliant men, of Aizen Sousuke and his hand in Hollowfying eight captains and lieutenants over a hundred years ago, of their subsequent escape and exile, and of Kisuke’s own plan to groom a weapon with the potential to take down Aizen-- a Shinigami father and a Quincy mother tainted with the bite of a Hollow to produce a Shinigami-Quincy-Hollow hybrid who would inherit powers from all three species.

“I could have cut in before your mother was bitten,” Kisuke admits, eyes still on his hat. He keeps his voice subdued and clinical, like he’s giving a report to a superior. It makes everything just the slightest bit easier. “Or even before your father was attacked. I did not. Had Aizen not decided to go ahead with his plans as early as he did-- had he waited for my Hogyoku to fall into his hands first instead, I would most likely have sent you into battle against him at the earliest opportunity, probably with subpar knowledge of the circumstances in general.”

The silence, after he finishes, is deafening. It stretches long enough that Kisuke finally steels himself and looks up, braced for rage or betrayal or both, except-

-except Ichigo isn’t even looking at him. He’s flexing his hand again, the left one, and he’s frowning, but he doesn’t seem particularly angry, which doesn’t make any sense-

“So it’s my fault,” Kisuke repeats, because maybe Ichigo hasn’t quite made that connection yet. “That Aizen is still targeting you to this day. Your house being one of the first hit by Hollows at the beginning was almost certainly deliberately ordered by him. Your overabundance of reiatsu that made you leave your family behind to save them. Your Hollowfication. The physical consequences of it. Each time you transform, the-”

_-blood, the pain, the loneliness; the way Ichigo sometimes forgets himself and reads out loud like he’s had no company for so long that he speaks just to hear a voice, any voice, even if it’s just his own; the way Kisuke almost always keeps a window cracked ajar nowadays because even when it’s just the two of them Ichigo is always a little restless if he can’t feel a natural breeze; even the occasional nightmares he thinks Kisuke doesn’t know about that wake them both in the dead of night._

Now that he’s started, he can’t seem to stop. Mingling with the dread that tightens like a noose around his neck is a morbid sort of curiosity to see this through, to see Ichigo prove him right and walk away and despise his very existence.

 _Self-destructive_ , Yoruichi once called him when Kisuke’s solution to bloodshot eyes and shaking hands after carrying out a particularly bloody string of missions that had even the Shihouin princess running ragged was to take _more_ missions until he numbed himself to the bone with them.

He takes a breath, ready to steamroll on, only for Ichigo to finally speak up.

It isn’t anything Kisuke expects to hear.

“I wanna make one thing very clear first,” Ichigo tells him, and his gaze nails Kisuke in place, sharp and fierce and simmering like hot coals, and Kisuke wonders if he’s about to be raked over them. But- “Nobody _makes_ me do anything.” He snorts at Kisuke’s blank uncomprehending look. “I left Mom and Karin and Yuzu because they’d be safer without me. That was my choice. Continuing to transform into-” He makes claw gestures with his fingers. “-monster-me - my choice. Fighting Aizen every time he pops up - _my_ choice. And yeah, maybe I don’t have much of one in that last one because it’s not like he’s just gonna let me go, but that’s on _him_ , not you.” He scowls. “So okay, it sounds like you got the ball rolling. But if we’re going by that, then it sounds like Aizen started it a hundred years ago, and you had to come up with a plan to stop him, and yeah, maybe it would’ve screwed me over but it’s not like you _knew_ I was gonna be the result. I could’ve turned out like Karin and Yuzu. I could’ve died even before the world ended. My parents could’ve chosen to have no kids. One of _them_ could’ve died before having me. There’s a million things you couldn’t have predicted even if you did make sure the two of them met. Which-” He takes a deep breath. “-is kinda messed up, yeah, but that was more about Mom, and I guess Dad too, than me, and Mom seems fine with you, so unless you didn’t tell her…?”

“I told her,” Kisuke says slowly. “But-”

“Right,” Ichigo nods briskly. “And I guess in this situation, I’m obligated to punch you or something for her if she hasn’t done it already. I’ll check with her later. But other than that,” He glares. “You can’t claim responsibility for every bad thing that’s ever happened to me. That’s stupid. You didn’t _make_ me do all the things I did. At most, you made sure I had a crapload of fancy powers, and yeah, there were times it caused me nothing but trouble, but they also saved my life plenty of times, so at this point, I think they balance each other out pretty fairly.”

...Well, put like that, Kisuke can see the logic of it. But still-

“Just-” Ichigo’s expression darkens. “You seem pretty certain that making sure my mom met my dad during the Hollow attack would result in a powerful weapon baby.” Kisuke inwardly cringes at the wording. “Except how do you even know they would get together? Or marry? Or-” He makes a face. “How did you know they would have a baby at all? _Did_ you know? Or I guess what I’m asking is-” For a second, it almost seems as if he doesn’t even want to ask, but of course he does anyway. “-did my dad know?”

Kisuke… thinks of lying of course. It would be kinder, wouldn’t it? He certainly didn’t tell _Masaki_ that her husband was in on the plan.

He blinks. He only hesitates for a fraction of a second, and yet, when Ichigo meets his eyes, somehow, he just seems to _know_.

“Well that explains a few things,” Ichigo mutters. He considers Kisuke for a moment, then clarifies, “I remember loving my mom and my sisters. I don’t remember really loving my dad. I thought it was just because I lost him even earlier but… the few memories I do still have of him are mostly of him doting on Karin and Yuzu or being loud or chasing Mom around. I can’t remember any moment when he spent time with me, specifically, and… I dunno. I just get the feeling we weren’t very close.”

He’s silent for a minute, then shrugs. “Well, whatever. It’s not like that matters anymore either.” He raises his eyebrows at Kisuke. “Is that all then? Your big secret about me?”

“...Ichigo,” Kisuke says with an unsteady sense of disbelief. “I would have used you as a _weapon_. And I wouldn’t have cared.”

Ichigo rolls his eyes. “But you didn’t.”

“Yes, because Aizen-”

“Right, so it didn’t happen,” Ichigo continues over him. “So what’s the problem? If everybody blamed everybody else for the stuff they might’ve done in situations that never happened, we’d never get anywhere cuz we’d all be too pissed at each other to function properly.”

“But I-”

“You _didn’t_ -”

“You should be angry,” Kisuke cuts him off this time, fingers curling into the brim of his hat. “Ichigo-san, you have the right to be angry.”

Ichigo heaves an irritated sigh. “For fuck’s- Look, if we could go back right now and you had the option of throwing me at Aizen again to take him down, would you?”

Kisuke wants to say no. He does. It’s the right thing to say.

But it wouldn’t be true.

“Probably,” He admits instead, barely holding Ichigo’s gaze this time. “Because you would still be my best bet. But I would tell you first. And I would be sorry I would have to ask it of you at all. I _am_ sorry. And I would help you to the best of my ability.”

Ichigo stares at him, as unblinking as the first time he demanded answers from Kisuke.

“Fair,” He eventually says. “And to be honest, I’d probably agree to fight him anyway. So.” He shrugs again. “There’s no problem then.”

It’s Kisuke’s turn to stare. It can’t be this easy. Even Masaki slapped him and made sure he had nothing but burnt food to eat for a solid month, and it took even longer for her to be willing to leave Karin and Yuzu alone in a room with him. Ichigo must be misunderstanding something, or he still isn’t getting the whole picture.

“Can we get back to the tests now?” Ichigo asks when the tense silence goes on for too long again, which jolts Kisuke back into the present where Ichigo is still half-naked, impatient but… but not nervous, not even slightly apprehensive about letting Kisuke near him with Kidou and a scalpel, not in all the experimental sessions they’ve had, and that’s-

He looks around again, at the rooms they share. He thinks of everything Ichigo’s told him about the years he spent alone, but also of the things Kisuke’s noticed just by watching him - protective and reckless, gruff and kind; likes drawing almost anything but favours fantasy themes like dragons and harpies and a work-in-progress comic strip starring supernatural creatures in a post-apocalyptic world; has nightmares, not as many as one might expect, but when he does, he lies awake the rest of the night and drinks his weight in caffeinated tea in the morning; speaks English almost as well as he speaks Japanese; reads anything he can get his hands on but recites love poetry like a modern-day Romeo; almost never sleeps on his back or his left side; and can’t fold his shirts properly to save his life-- he thinks Kisuke doesn’t know that he only pretends to mix up their shirts in the dryer just so Kisuke will fold them for him.

He looks at Ichigo again, wide-eyed.

 _Oh_.

His grip tightens on his hat for a moment before he sets it aside and summons his reiatsu again, returning to running a scan along the bottom rib on Ichigo’s left side. Ichigo doesn’t even twitch.

Masaki didn’t trust him for the longest time. She isn’t stupid; she knew he and Isshin kept secrets from her-- finding out just how twisted those secrets were only compounded her mistrust with a heavy dose of dislike, and even now he knows he’s never going to be her favourite person even if she does try to take care of him like she takes care of everyone else in the warehouse. He’s never quite known what she blamed him for most until Ichigo told him why he ran off, and he lets her continue believing that it was his idea - which is true - and that Isshin wasn’t in on it before their first child was even conceived - which is not quite so true. But she was upset enough when Kisuke confirmed her suspicions of Isshin being persuaded into going along with the plan _after_ Ichigo was born with a mind-boggling amount of reiatsu. Better to let her keep some good memories of her late husband, and it isn’t as if Kisuke isn’t used to people distrusting him or hating him.

But Ichigo. Ichigo _already_ trusted him, possibly before they ever even arrived at the warehouse. Kisuke’s not quite sure how it happened, but Ichigo said it himself, didn’t he? The things he’s told Kisuke, he hasn’t even told his own mother. So it isn’t so much that Ichigo isn’t angry or that he doesn’t mind Kisuke’s meddling in his life, although there’s a straightforward practicality in his acceptance of it all that he was either born with or has learned over the years; it’s more that he _trusts_ Kisuke - the Kisuke he’s come to know - not to toss him in the deep end without a life raft, trusts him to help if Ichigo ever does have to go toe to toe with Aizen again, to _be there with him_ even if Kisuke does shove him onto a battlefield.

Somehow, in the month and change they’ve known each other, Ichigo’s learned enough about him to judge him and find him worth trusting.

“It’s foolish,” Kisuke murmurs as he reaches around and carefully twines his reiatsu along Ichigo’s back where bone sinks into flesh to reinforce the spinal cord.

Ichigo grunts and half-turns to give Kisuke more room to work. “Well, nobody’s ever accused me of being a genius. So maybe I am an idiot. Guess you’ll just have to deal with it, Urahara-san.”

“...Kisuke,” Kisuke says after a moment. It’s easier, with Ichigo’s back to him. “It’s only fair, don’t you think?”

He eases back his reiatsu and rests a flat hand against Ichigo’s mid-back, just to the left of the Hollow ribcage. Warm but not feverishly so anymore. “Aches? Pain?”

Ichigo stretches, muscles rippling up his back but nothing splits open or starts bleeding. “No. Feels fine. Better than fine actually. I can usually feel the bone stabbing into me, and it never really hurt but it was kinda uncomfortable. This is good.” He tips a crooked grin at Kisuke. “Thanks, Kisuke-san.”

Kisuke only hums and writes down a few more notes before shutting the notebook. “Then we’re done for today.” He begins packing everything away even as he peers at Ichigo and suggests, “Spar? Let’s see how you do without Zanpakutou.”

Ichigo brightens. “Against you? Sure, we haven’t done that yet.”

The training grounds is a wreck by the time they finish, sweaty and dusty and panting for breath. But it was a good workout even if Kisuke does end up nursing a black eye and Ichigo is limping along on a sprained knee that’s already healing.

It draws everyone else into the viewing dock in time to watch their exchange, blows and parries and blocks and dodges that Kisuke never shies away from as he gives as good as he gets, simply utilizing Kidou in a way he hasn’t in a long time when Ichigo attacks with his unique black-red reiatsu. Sparring with the Visored has always been an exercise in moderation-- never push too far, for their sake _and_ his own, but going too easy on them will just make them angry, and there was always the threat of them losing control hanging over them all. Spars haven’t been _fun_ in a long time, and Ichigo is both strong enough and unpredictable enough to give Kisuke a thrill as they chase each other around the training grounds.

And if Kisuke uses the spar to flaunt the way Ichigo is having just as much fun - considering the wild grin on his face - in a way he never has when one of the others demands a fight from him, if Kisuke stakes something of a claim on Ichigo just by showing them all how _different_ Ichigo is when he interacts with Kisuke compared to everyone else, then that’s no one’s business but his own.

 

* * *

 

Ichigo starts leaving his hoodies behind sometimes when he leaves their rooms. He still wears long-sleeved shirts but he walks around without burrowing half his face in the shadows of a hoodie, and if on occasion his sleeve slips up and flashes a glimpse of his left arm in public, he doesn’t seem to mind. Masaki knows of course, and Karin and Yuzu probably do as well by now, even if they haven’t seen Ichigo without a shirt. Ururu and Jinta have probably been kept out of the loop but Ichigo has taken to treating them - especially Ururu - like younger siblings as well so Kisuke can’t see them having any problems even if they do find out. Yoruichi can’t not know-- even when he goes out with a sweater, she likes using one of Ichigo’s Hollow ribs as a surreptitious stepping stone when she leaps up to perch on Ichigo’s shoulder in her cat form, and Ichigo lets her so it’s obvious neither of them cares. Shinji might know too, Kisuke thinks, or at least he’s guessed because he doesn’t give Ichigo’s arm more than a cursory glance the first time his sleeve rucks up for a moment.

The others stare, more often and more brazen, but even they don’t seem particularly inclined to pick at Ichigo about this, not when they regularly tried to kill everything around them before he came along, and Ichigo himself still keeps the majority of his physical differences covered up.

The biggest change is how Ichigo spends more time with Kisuke where the others can actually see them instead of simply shutting themselves away in their rooms all the time. They still do the latter - they both like their privacy - but it’s as if now that Ichigo knows all the relevant facts, he’s decided that he’s allowed to ignore what everyone else might think of the two of them spending time together and judge them right back if they make any comments about _human weapons_ or _cradle robbing_ or _puppet masters_ or - once, while pitching a fit about something or other - _no better than Aizen_ from Hiyori.

(Ichigo went full-mask the next time he was beating her inner Hollow into submission, disappearing behind a building and reappearing behind her, looming large and threatening and scaring an actual scream out of her with a Cero pulsing between his horns before booting her halfway across the abandoned city. Kisuke maintained a blank face from where he was watching it on his computer screen. Yoruichi had no such compunctions and cackled merrily beside him. She always did have an odd sense of humour. Frightening people has always been her idea of entertainment.

It had nothing to do with vindictiveness of course.)

It becomes routine. When Ichigo isn’t with his family, he can usually be found with Kisuke, whether that’s in their rooms or in another part of the warehouse.

And Kisuke can’t say he doesn’t prefer it. There’s always been a divide between himself and most of the others, and there probably always will be. There were days, he knows, when the Visored didn’t even want to have to look at him. But Ichigo’s presence makes it far less noticeable, and even when the others drop the occasional snide remark around him, Kisuke finds he doesn’t mind half as much as he used to without Ichigo acting like an overprotective buffer.

 

* * *

 

“So,” Ichigo says another few weeks later as they’re getting ready for bed. He’s already rolled up in his futon, watching Kisuke putter around, stashing a few books away before climbing into bed. “Do you need any help with your plans to take down Aizen?”

Kisuke stalls for a moment as Ichigo continues. “Cuz, you know, I’m still pretty strong even if Aizen kicked off everything earlier than you expected and fucked up _way_ more than anyone expected. And if you’ve been waiting for me to settle in and adjust or whatever, I’ve done that, so if you need me to do anything, you just have to say.”

Kisuke focuses on pulling up the duvet over his lap before answering. “There… aren’t any plans, actually. There were,” He adds when he catches a glimpse of Ichigo’s puzzled frown. “At the beginning, when things weren’t as bad, when we thought we could still defeat Aizen. But then most of the Gotei 13 were slaughtered, the rest were scattered, and the Visored couldn’t even retain their mental faculties for long if they so much as unsealed their Zanpakutou.”

“But they can now,” Ichigo interjects. He’s sitting up again, earnest and determined and full of a hope that Kisuke doesn’t know where he gets from. “They’re still a bit touch-and-go when they summon their masks, but even that’s just a matter of time. Then there’s you and your friends, and my mom’s pretty badass with her arrows. And you have me now. I’m not trying to sound arrogant or something but if what you were missing before was firepower, I’m pretty sure I can make up the difference.”

Kisuke grimaces. “I’m afraid it isn’t that simple. Even if we could defeat Aizen, and with you, I agree, that is now a real possibility, but even if we defeated him, there isn’t anything we can do afterwards. Soul Society has fallen. The world is all but dead. And so long as Aizen’s Hogyoku exists and remains active, dead bodies will continue reanimating into Hollows.” His eyes fall on Benihime, lying beside his futon. “And I haven’t been able to find a way to destroy my own Hogyoku yet, let alone both. I have no idea if separating Aizen from his Hogyoku would restore the reincarnation cycle.” He looks at Ichigo again. “But even if it did, there’s nowhere for people to be reincarnated to, nowhere for them to go after they die. At this point, defeating Aizen would only make us a little safer in the long run.”

He pauses. “What?” Because- “What is that look for?” Because it’s the exact same look Ichigo wore when the Visored issue was dumped in his lap. Confused about a problem because he isn’t sure why it’s a problem.

Kisuke’s learned his lesson. He’s suddenly wide awake as his mind tears through everything he’s just said, trying to figure out what he’s missed, what Ichigo’s seen that he hasn’t, leaping from every failed attempt to every unsuccessful experiment at destroying the Hogyoku that he’s ever desperately spent months slaving over. He spirals down all the equations that didn’t work out and all the calculations that ultimately hit a dead-end, and… and he still can’t figure out where he went wrong, where he might have missed something or could’ve done something different that would’ve let him get rid of the Hogyoku. He’s tried every possibility-

He jerks a little when a balled up piece of paper hits him on the head.

“I can practically see steam coming out of your ears,” Ichigo tells him dryly.

Kisuke sighs, slightly sheepish, more than slightly dissatisfied. “What are you thinking?”

Ichigo’s expression smooths out to something more contemplative. “Well, I’m not that smart-” Kisuke almost rolls his eyes at that. Compared to Kisuke, they aren’t the _same_ kind of smart, that’s true, but he would very much like to see someone else rant about the standards by which 11th-century Scottish nobility were raised and how they influenced human nature while quoting passages from _Macbeth_ to support his analysis without ever even cracking open the play. “-so I don’t know if maybe I misunderstood something you mentioned early on, back when we first met.”

Kisuke frowns, casting his mind back. It seems so long ago even though it’s really only been a few months. And all they talked about back then was… a crude summary of Ichigo’s heritage and a general overview of how the world ended.

For conversation starters, theirs was certainly a unique one.

“You told me about the Hogyoku, remember?” Ichigo continues. “Why would you be looking for a way to destroy either of them at all?”

“Aizen wants to...” Kisuke starts slowly, then stops, staring at Ichigo as the first glimmer of an idea blooms at the back of his mind.

_It can’t-_

“To combine them so that he gets his super wishing stone to help him rule the world, yeah,” Ichigo finishes, nodding. “You told me. But we kinda need it too, don’t we?”

_-be that simple._

“So that we can wish all this away. Wish the end of the world never happened. Wish everything back to normal.”

Kisuke sits, motionless, as Ichigo’s words echo in his head.

That-

-isn’t possible.

_Right?_

For one-

“I don’t know if that’s how it works,” Kisuke says at last.

_And yet-_

“I don’t know if the Hogyoku would allow someone to _pick_ what they wish for,” He continues distantly.

_-this idea-_

“It grants a person’s deepest desire, which might or might not be something you’re even consciously aware of.”

_-might have some merit._

“Okay,” Ichigo shrugs. “But _somebody’s_ ‘deepest desire’ has got to be wishing all this crap never happened, right? We just have to find the right person to make the wish.”

“...We would have no way to be certain,” Kisuke murmurs, but his hands curl into the fabric of the duvet, and his heart beats loud in his ears. No way _now_ , but if anyone could find a way, well, Kisuke’s accomplished harder tasks, hasn’t he? “I’m not even a hundred percent sure of how the combined Hogyoku would work. I wouldn’t know until I could at least run some tests on it.”

“Well that’s easy,” Ichigo snorts with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ll take down Aizen. You take the Hogyoku from his chest. Then we can figure it out, right?”

“I don’t-” Kisuke breaks off and glances almost wildly over at Ichigo again. “This is insane.”

Ichigo looks unimpressed. “Why? Seems like common sense to me. You have a wishing stone that can magically grant anything. I almost didn’t believe you when you first told me. All this time, I thought the only thing stopping you was that you couldn’t kill Aizen and get his Hogyoku, but apparently not. I mean, why _wouldn’t_ you use it to wish everything back the way it used to be?”

Kisuke stares for a moment longer.

It’s _so simple_. So simple it sounds ridiculous, and yet…

Something pushes at him, pulsing in his veins and making his fingers itch for his computers and notebooks and pencils and fresh pages, and it takes him several seconds to realize what it is - excitement, thrumming in his blood, a relentless desire to achieve what no one else has before, _just because_ , and the soul-deep belief that he _can_ , because he is Urahara Kisuke and there’s never been anything he set his mind to that he wasn’t able to figure out.

And it makes him wonder-- _when did I forget that?_

They’re all alive, here in this warehouse. The children learn, the adults teach, and they talk and fight and eat and sleep, but they’re not really doing anything except surviving from day to day.

The whole lot of them gave up years ago, even Masaki, even the _kids_ , half of whom don’t even really remember living in another time when Hollows weren’t a constant threat. They’ve resigned themselves to this world and this life and just… stopped, stopped _hoping_ for something to change, stopped _trying_ for something more.

But here is Ichigo, who looked at the Visored and all but told them to suck it up and own what they are, who looks at the world too and believes in something better.

 _Tell me it’s impossible,_ Ichigo’s gaze challenges him. _And I’ll prove you wrong anyway._

Kisuke was like that once, wasn’t he? He turned impossibilities into reality before breakfast, smiled in the face of anybody who told him he couldn’t, couldn’t graduate the Academy on his own merit without Yoruichi supporting him, couldn’t cut it as a Shinigami either, couldn’t hold Yoruichi’s regard, couldn’t invent even half the things he did to make Soul Society better and the Gotei 13 stronger, and yet he always, _always_ proved them wrong.

All these years, arguably from the moment he was exiled, he’s been trying to figure out a way to destroy the Hogyoku once and for all. When he couldn’t, in the end, and it was only a matter of time before Aizen came for it, he hid it instead, sealing it in the one place he could personally safeguard at all times, the one place Aizen would never suspect because the man just wouldn’t have it in him to do the same.

But maybe, maybe Kisuke shouldn’t have been looking for a way to destroy it after all. Maybe he should have been researching the abilities of its completed form properly. He was a little more leery of the thing after the Hollowfication incident, and it seemed wise to want nothing more to do with it when even Yoruichi yelled at him the one time she caught him experimenting with it yet again after he finished using it to stabilize the Visored’s conditions. So instead, he set aside any lingering curiosity he might have had about the true power of the Hogyoku and obsessed over looking for a way to permanently get rid of it instead.

Maybe that was a mistake, just as much as creating it in the first place was. But it’s a mistake he can correct, and that’s all that matters. Studying his own Hogyoku again won’t be the same as studying the combined one, but for now, it’s a decent place to begin if his goal is now to predict what the completed Hogyoku at its full potential can do and how he might be able to harness its power.

And he finds that he can’t wait to start.

He throws back his blankets and scrambles out of the futon, almost tripping as he tries to get up and bend down to scoop up Benihime at the same time. “I have to-” He catches himself and doesn’t even bother with his hat or his sandals as he hurries for his lab, already distracted by the prospect of testing all the theories suddenly crowding to the forefront of his mind. “I need my notes.”

Five minutes later, his lab looks like a paper bomb’s gone off inside it, and Ichigo’s placing a hot cup of tea on the desk beside his arm. He tastes caffeine when he sips at it, which is exactly what he needs, and he pulls himself away from his computers long enough to look up at Ichigo, who looks equal parts amused and expectant.

“Anything I can do to help?” He asks, at a quarter past midnight when most people would be sleeping, in the middle of a disorganized disaster zone of a lab, and Kisuke can’t help the way he beams even as he shoves a stack of files and a highlighter in Ichigo’s direction.

“Read through those,” He instructs. “Mark down any parts on fusion theory and materialization.”

Ichigo scans the top file for a moment before curling up on the couch and settling down for the rest of their sleepless night. “So you think it’ll work?”

Kisuke pauses just long enough to consider the question seriously. “...There’s a chance it will. I can’t be absolutely certain until the two Hogyokus are fused.” He glances at Benihime before turning back to Ichigo. “But I think it’s worth a try.”

And maybe he’ll even figure out a way to restore Benihime’s Bankai once Aizen is no longer a threat and he can finally unseal the Hogyoku again.

Ichigo just nods as if Kisuke’s confirmation is all he needs to move full-steam ahead, and then he promptly buries his nose in the first file. Kisuke watches him for a moment longer, trying to remember if he’s ever met anyone else who embodies as much unshakable resolve as Kurosaki Ichigo. Somehow, even though nothing is certain, he makes even Kisuke believe they’ll succeed.

He huffs out a breath that feels a bit like laughter. Listen to him. Already thinking beyond Aizen, as if Aizen isn’t an insurmountable obstacle all on his own, never mind repairing a broken Bankai or getting the Hogyoku to do exactly what he wants it to do.

But… it isn’t so impossible anymore, is it? And if it is, well.

He looks at Ichigo, head bent and scowling intensely at a page of Kisuke’s rushed scrawl, and marvels at his fortune. If Ichigo never followed Kisuke into that building, would he be here now? Would he have found his way to the warehouse anyway? Probably not. Even Aizen can’t get past the seals surrounding this place. And without Ichigo…

Well, a life without Ichigo isn’t one Kisuke cares to contemplate anymore, and more importantly, it isn’t one he _has_ to contemplate either.

They have a plan now, however simple, unpredictable, impossible. A plan, and that’s more than they’ve had in years, something to work towards, something to strive for, something like hope.

As if feeling his gaze, Ichigo glances up from the notes and frowns quizzically at him. Kisuke smiles, unbidden, and shakes his head, returning to his work as Ichigo does the same.

 _Thank you_ , he thinks and doesn’t say because it leaves him just a little too exposed, even now.

But…

Someday.

Perhaps.

After all, _someday_ seems to be within reach again, and Kisuke knows that neither of them will be satisfied with anything less than achieving what they’ve set out to do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! Hope you enjoyed!


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